


Be My Baby / Devil Like You

by Heavydirtys0ul



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It causes problems, M/M, OP projects onto numerous characters and calls it a day, Parental Trauma, Trans!Virgil, chapter titles are songs off the playlist now, patton Is Not Out And Very Religious, religious trauma, there is homophobic microagressions in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25184320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/Heavydirtys0ul
Summary: This fic is based on Bea Miller’s Be My Baby, and Gareth Dunlop’s Devil Like You. Yeah I know, that’s a bit of whiplash between two songs.Fic Synopsis: Roman knows how to dance, Patton knows how to pray, Remus knows how to use his mouth and Logan knows how to shut it. Meanwhile, Virgil and Janus think they’re all idiots and are begging for some healthy communication. (University!AU)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders/Sleep | Remy Sanders/Emile Picani, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Emile Picani, Logic | Logan Sanders/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Comments: 109
Kudos: 170





	1. Week One: Devil Like You

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: It’s not really unsympathetic Patton, because he’s not a villain, he is dealing with internalised homophobia, however, so some homophobia in this fic, alcohol is drunk in this fic, mention of past drug use for recreational use, not specified which drugs though and is mentioned as a flippant thing rather than drug addiction. There’s mention of more serious homophobia in a discussion of Remus/Roman’s home town, but it’s one sentence.

The first week of university is always rather hectic for anyone, hectic except for Logan who is lying on his own bed pushing granola around a bowl. The nervousness of a new chapter of his life has the brunet struggling to digest his food; _‘which is ridiculous,’_ he notes to himself, because he needs the energy of food to accomplish the tasks in which he is nervous about in the first place. 

Still, his stomach wasn’t having it, hence the half-empty bowl of granola in yoghurt that hasn’t been touched for twenty minutes. Logan is not really used to feeling this nervous, he knows for sure that feeling uneasy is a definite response to uprooting your entire life a state over, yet he’s so used to feeling emotions like this on a small scale, one that he finds it easy to reason with. 

His internal monologue is suspended by a knock on his door, he sits up in his bed as he calls for whoever may be on the other side to enter, one hand steadying the bowl with his movements. A man his own age stands on the other side, his blackened hair mussed and falling into and around his bright green eyes. He glances at the bowl in Logan’s lap and raises his eyebrows. “That is one sad-looking bowl of granola,” the tone of his voice is humorous and the brunet can’t help but smile sheepishly as he places the bowl on his bedside table. “We’re having a little bit of a quiet get together right now, just as a way to get to know each other, we were wondering if you’ll be joining us; there’s snacks, alcoholic beverages, non-alcoholic beverages, and an alarming amount of fruit because my brother has just decided he wants to be more healthy, whatever the _fuck_ that means,” 

Logan hesitates a little, drinking with strangers is always a bad idea, but he gets a distinct feeling that normal students would jump at the opportunity. “Do I need to get changed or is this a pyjama party?” 

“Pyjama party, I’m Remus by the way,” 

The living room doubles as a kitchen, there’s a table and a couch which is cramming three bodies whilst a fourth sits on the floor with a coffee cup full of a glittery pink liquid, his dark purple hair not quite matching the beverage. “He’s alive!” One of the bodies on the couch cheers, he has the same face as Remus but his hair is an in-ignorable bright red, and he doesn’t seem to have the same capacity for facial hair as his lookalike. The others look up at him too, a blonde curled up in the corner of the couch like he’s desperate to be as far away from everyone else as possible on one side of the redhead; whilst on the other side there’s a man with close-cropped curls and wide-rimmed glasses. 

Logan waves awkwardly and Remus snorts beside him, patting him on the back before taking his seat on the floor, leaving the newcomer to trail after him and sit at the remaining spot beside the coffee table. “Alright, so we’re starting with never have I ever because we’re all literal children,” the blonde comments, his voice dry but with a tinge of amusement as he reaches for the bottle of the pink liquid on the desk “I’m Janus by the way, the loudmouth ginger is Roman, next to him is Patton, and that…” He gestures to the purple-haired man who looks unimpressed to be pointed at “...is Virgil.” 

“Logan,” he offers a nervous smile before his eyes go back to the bottle that is looking more and more inviting the more he looks at it. He picks up a cup and pours a little bit of it into a cup, after understanding that is in fact, gin, he looks up as he reaches for the lemonade. 

“I’ll go first,” Roman grins, “Never have I ever got into a fight.” Remus makes a small noise of protest beside Logan, squinting up at (who Logan assumes is) his brother. 

“Targeting is illegal,” the dark-haired man groans before taking a mouthful out of his drink “no more targeting or I’ll lose the game in seconds.” Laughter runs through the group, except for Patton, the curly-haired one who sits with his knees drawn to his chest and a cup of what looks like warm tea balancing between the palms of his hands. He just looks uncomfortable, unnerved by the whole situation. Logan catches his eyes and offers him a sympathetic smile, he’s also a little bit out of his depth in social gatherings. “Patton, your turn!”

“Oh, uh, how does the game work again? I say something I haven’t done?” There are various mumbles of agreements, and Roman offers him an encouraging grin. The small man takes a deep breath in “Never have I ever...drank alcohol?” There’s a few blinks of confusion as everyone but Patton drinks. 

“Never?” The blonde asks, _‘Janus’_ Logan’s mind provides helpfully, after a few seconds of trying to recover the little detail. 

“No, I think the Church wine is non-alcoholic, which would make sense for people who don’t drink for religious reasons and also the fact that children drink the wine.” Remus snorts a little beside Logan, and Patton’s cheeks heat as he looks down at his hands. “Sorry, I don’t think I should play this game, isn’t it sort of cheating if you’ve never done anything?” 

“I’ve not had that much of an interesting life either,” The brunet can’t help but interject, he feels a slow and pitiful sort of sympathy for the way the already very small man is drawing in on himself. “Honestly I’ve only drank alcohol maybe four times in my life and I’ve never been drunk, _and_ every time was with my parents.” He shrugs “I suppose it just means we’ve got a lot to experience in the future, not everyone can have the fast-paced teenage years full of drinking and parties.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” Janus mutters, taking a mouthful “Logan, your turn before Patton runs away from all the scrutiny on him.” 

“Never have I ever…” What is something common for teenagers to have experienced that he hasn’t? “...done any sort of drugs, bar say, aspirin.” Remus takes a mouthful out of his drink again, clearly in a hurry to drink as much as possible, Roman also drinks and Janus takes a reasonable sip from his own. Virgil squints at the ceiling for a second like he’s trying to remember, before he shrugs and drinks. 

“Took you a minute,” Janus snorts, looking over at his friend. “Remus?”

“Never have I ever had sex for money.” 

“You didn’t even think about that,” Roman mutters, “I thought we agreed no targeted attacks?” He throws back a mouthful of his drink, Patton is staring at him with something between nervousness and reserved horror. The look is impressive, Logan notes to himself, mainly because Patton’s general horror is amusing. 

“Payback,” Remus shrugs simply “Now no targeted attacks...Virgil?” 

“Never have I ever found these games remotely fun,” the violet-haired man grumbles, staring at the surface of his pink drink “It’s just an excuse to expose the worst of your friends to strangers in attempt of humiliating them.” Logan does not drink, it’s the first time he’s played this game in a long, _long_ time and honestly he hasn’t exactly missed it. But mostly he keeps side-eying how uncomfortable Patton looks amongst all of this. 

“Plus sex, drugs and prostitution may be funny, don’t get me wrong, _so_ glad I learned that about you, Roman...Logan and Patton look like they’ve just stepped into alien territory and everyone is speaking a different language, no offence guys.” Janus gestures loosely in the direction of the people he discusses as he agrees with Virgil. “I think we should just talk like human beings and see which of us hates the other by the end of the night.” 

“I like that idea,” Logan adds because he does. Patton nods with a small smile, sipping his tea. 

So they drink and talk, and Patton tells them about his life and ends up being the only “straight” present, which he looks uncomfortable about to some degree. Logan admits he’s never given his sexuality much thought, he’s been too buried under books to really pay much attention to things like sex or romance or both. The other’s are very open about their sexuality, Virgil even has a little rainbow tattoo behind his ear, which he has to pull his hair back to show. 

Patton goes to bed first, after everyone started to dawn on the fact that he’s uncomfortable just by being there around people that he doesn’t really know, and a group that he is unfamiliar with. “Well that was tense,” Virgil muttered, “trust a bible basher to get stuck with a fuck ton of queers and whatever Logan is.” Logan, a little drunk, laughs quietly in response, leaning his head on the table and staring at the mostly empty glitter-gin as the edible glitter swirls around the pink liquid. If he stares for too long he thinks it looks like it’s glowing. “At least now he knows what being drunk is like lads.” 

“It’s very dizzy,” The brunet replies, gaze not living the bottle, “The whole room is dizzy.” 

“Spinning,” Janus supplies helpfully, but all he gets in response is a quiet hum of agreement. “Next step is getting him stoned, you _totally_ don’t look like you need it or anything, Logan.” Again, there’s only a low sound of agreement as the man stares, hypnotised by the way the glitter swirls in the glass bottle. Remus chuckles beside him. “Well, I’m off to sleep, Virgil are you in my room or your own tonight?” 

“I’ll pile in yours tonight if that’s alright?” The blond smiles and Logan finally looks up as Janus helps his friend (partner?) up from the ground, their fingertips almost automatically intertwining. It’s sweet, but the glass bottle, once again, takes much more interest for Logan. Roman makes a gagging noise, accompanied by some rather vulgar hand gestures, before standing himself. 

“I need some sleep, will you two be okay?” Logan doesn’t really know if he’s the one actually being asked until he looks up and finds the redhead staring right at him. He stiffens a little, before looking around the room and nodding, unsure why he was being given such an intense gaze. “All right, well, if he tries anything, just shout.” The blue-eyed man does not know what that means, but Roman is gone before he can ask. 

“He’s joking,” Remus uttered from beside him, stirring gin around his cup with what looks like a straw ( _’where did that come from?’_ he thinks silently to himself). “Well, mostly, I think, I’ve never actually hurt someone like that, I think he’s just used to me being aggressive.” It’s an honest admittance, not the sort of honesty from a game, but a genuine vulnerability that shows on the ebony-haired man’s face, he looks somewhat upset in one way or another. “I used to get in a lot of fights in high school, Roman says it’s because I’m not mature enough to handle bullshit but I just don’t like it when people call my brother a fag.” Logan sits up a little straighter then, eyes wide. “I mean, we’re from that sort of place so...shit happens you know? And if a lad turns up in a ditch and he was gay that was just how things worked in our town, and I wanted it to be very clear there was no way anyone was hurting him.”

“What about you? Did no-one…”

“I’m not Roman,” Remus shrugs, “People think I’m weird, they think I’m crazy or delusional and at some point that became a protective cover for me, I’d get into fights and I wouldn’t stop until their faces were just...fucked,” He shrugs “I didn’t care, I was protecting myself and my family, but Roman doesn’t see it like that...he’s like woefully pacifistic and thinks I’m like...an animal or something.” 

“It sounds like you took necessary measures to protect your family,” Logan glances at Remus’ knuckles, there is a slight discolouration to them, like healed scars. “But you’re safer here and can learn how to control your anger, especially now,” He glances back out the closed door to the hallway “I get the feeling you and Patton may find yourself in a verbal altercation at some point, he seems to lack any sort of education on the matter of sexuality, and his ignorance may cause friction.” 

“You talk like you swallowed a textbook even when you’re drunk,” Logan smiles in response and nods slightly. “You are pretty though, I’ll give you that,” the smile slips at the seemingly sudden confession and his cheeks heat as he looks away from Remus. “Shit, sorry, did I misread a situation again, Roman says I’m too forward.”

“No,” Logan replies tersely, looking back up at Remus. Perhaps it’s the alcohol but a sharp realisation simply overwhelms him, and now there’s a lump in his throat “I just don’t think anyone has ever said I’m aesthetically pleasing in any fashion before, and the alcohol is making me far more emotional than I’m used to digesting at any one time.” The other man stares at him, first with confusion and then with empathy. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think anyone has ever had a nice thing to say about me, I’m used to being told I’m hot or fuckable and shit, but pretty? No that’s just not me.”

“You are pretty,” it slips out before he can really stop it, and he surprises himself, which displays all over his face as Remus chuckles at the torn horror as the words fall from his lips. “I mean, I think you are, I-I haven’t had much experience in such things, but aesthetically you are... _nice_?” His voice gets higher the more he panics and Remus shakes his head with a small smile. 

“Logan, you’re very clever, I’m sure, but terrible at backtracking.” 

There’s a second where the man smiles weakly at the words, staring into Remus’ green eyes before a warm sense creeps up his neck. He’s seen that sort of look in movies before, but he’s never experienced it; after all, he’s never really had a group of friends or, for that matter, anyone who has ever been interested in him. Which is what he thought was supposed to happen, but he’s known this wild-eyed man a few hours and for the first time in his life, he understands the meaning of romance movies and sexual attraction. 

So he kisses Remus, he doesn’t even think about it, one second he’s in one place and the next his lips are pressing to the taller’s. He parts his lips, because he’s sure that’s how that goes, but Remus sets the pace from there, his hands cupping Logan’s cheeks; he can feel the cool metal of the other man’s rings on his skin, and it’s strangely reassuring. He takes a deep breath between kisses because for a long few minutes he doesn’t want this feeling, heart hammering in his chest and the rushing of his blood making him feel hot all over, to ever end. 

“You know as much as I’d love to just, fuck around whilst we’re both drunk.” Remus pulled away “I’m just not that person anymore, and you’re way drunker than I am,” Even though Remus had definitely drunk so much more. “I’d rather not have any more disappointed looks in my life,” Logan nods, breathing much deeper than he probably should be. “But we can totally keep making out if we move to the couch, 'cause my ass has gone numb as fuck.” 

He’s a little dazed as he follows Remus, his hand warm in the other’s, it takes him a moment to even realise what’s happening if he’s honest, but it’s not a bad feeling. There’s a sheer euphoria in the knowledge he just had his first kiss, and it feels so much better than it looks on TV. So he lies on the couch with Remus and presses their lips together again. 

\--

He wakes up the next morning lying on top of Remus like he was terrified of falling off in his sleep. His eyes are a little bleary and his glasses were on the floor, his head on Remus’ chest. The flat is warm, at least, but his back is in six different types of pain (and he’d hate to be the man lying underneath him), and cracks as he sits up slowly. The ebony-haired man stays asleep, and Logan feels a little bad for leaving him but the growl of his stomach dictates he should probably eat, so he stands.

“He’s only cute when he’s asleep, but when he’s awake he’s a _menace_.” Logan curses under his breath as he jumps in surprise, head whipping up to face the kitchen. Roman is sat on (not at, _on_ ) the breakfast bar with a bowl of cereal and a mischievous grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you sleeping with...on my brother.” The brunet sighs and grabs his glasses off the floor, sliding them onto his face and moving towards the kitchen area to make his own breakfast. “So, I didn’t hear any obnoxious sex noises last night, so I’m under the assumption he did not ruin your virtue?” 

“No, he did _not_.” 

“But by the way you were clinging to him, I’d say you’d like that?” Logan glares at the redhead, whose grin only widens “Oh this is gold, he’s been here a day and he’s already dragging people into his bed.” He snorts and shakes his head, spooning cereal into his mouth as the other opens the cupboard. “Alright, you’re already blushing like a tomato, I’ll cease the bullying.” 

The brunet quirks something of a smile though, he can’t help it; he hadn’t expected to feel so excited over his first kiss; he’s always looked to sex and romance as objective things, things he’d never experienced. Things he hadn’t entirely expected to experience if he’s honest. But he can still remember the taste of alcohol on Remus’ lips and the scratch of his beard and the way his hands felt on his cheeks and hips and...he flushes a little red, trying to divert his train of thought away from the way his body had felt like fire from the smallest of touches. “It’s not something I think about often enough to tell you whether or not I’d like that,” Logan lies through his teeth, Roman makes an ‘uh-huh’ noise, followed by the crunch of cereal. The blue-eyed boy realises he’s been stood in front of the open cabinet for a minute, lost in his train of thought. 

The quiet is interrupted by the low thud of Remus rolling off the couch, which has his brother grinning again as he peers over. “Good morning, brother dearest, couldn’t keep your mouth to yourself for one night?” The darker-haired twin sits up from the floor with a confused expression, then his gaze drifts to Logan, who gives something of a small wave and a tight smile.

“Go away Roman,” The younger twin grumbles, dragging himself to his feet and rubbing his forehead to try and restrain the headache “go, shoo, away heathen,” he gestures with his hands until the other jumps down off the counter, throwing Logan a wink before the door shuts behind him. “Was he being embarrassing? I keep telling him to keep his nose to himself but I suppose his romantic life is just enough of a train wreck to start meddling in mine.” 

“A little,” Logan admits “But nothing quite too intense, it felt weird though, like he was your dad or something.” 

“Practically,” Remus hums, “Mind if I have a small repeat of last night?” Logan’s cheeks heat again, he’s getting very tired of blushing, but he nods anyway, looking up at the other and accepting a small, slow kiss from him. 

It was _supposed_ to be a small, slow kiss anyway, until he finds himself sat on the kitchen counter with Remus’ hands on his thighs. He gasps lightly into the kiss as the other’s fingertips squeeze at his thighs, finding the way they tighten around the other man’s waist almost fascinating. He wasn’t even thinking really, his body just seems to know what he wants. But again, Remus pulls back. He looks at Logan, whose shoulders are shaking from his deep breaths like he’s on the edge of a panic attack but instead of panic it’s an incessant need to have those hands move upwards a little. He appears to just look straight into him for a moment, before he smiles impishly and kisses him again, so hard that Logan can feel their teeth clash for a second, but for whatever reason he doesn’t really feel the pain. He shuffles closer to the edge, Remus pressing against him, one hand on Logan’s thigh and the other on his hip; the other man doesn’t know what to do with his hands so he cups Remus’ cheeks with slightly shaky hands. 

He can feel a pressure running from his abdomen right to his crotch, which is not a feeling he’s unfamiliar with, but the circumstances are certainly not typical for him. He loses himself in the feeling of Remus’ lips, and hands, and tongue and occasionally a little teeth; and he isn’t really sure when he started rocking his hips against the other’s body until he feels a sudden jolt of pleasure that has him moaning into the other’s mouth. The taller man chuckles a little, his lips leaving Logan’s, the other makes a small noise of complaint but then there are lips on his neck and he can’t really restrain the soft noise of surprise that accompanies the ticklish sensation of lips, then tongue on his neck. He definitely jolts a little when Remus starts sucking a bruise into his skin. 

There’s a second where he can’t even identify how overwhelmed with the sensation he feels, and then Remus presses the palm of his hand to Logan’s aching cock through his sweatpants. The feeling is strange, having anyone else touch him at all is, but not foreign in any measure; it does, however, surprise him enough that he grinds into the pressure without really contemplating it, and then he can’t really stop. He just rocks his hips into the touch whilst one hand supports his weight and the other grips the back of Remus’ head. He can feel the heat build more and more, his head going foggy.

Until the kitchen door opens and his eyes dart open. He almost feels little sorry for Patton, whose eyes go very wide and his skin very pale upon entering the kitchen to this. Remus leans up and turns his head back enough to see the intrusion, offering an almost sorry smile. The newcomer makes some sort of squeak of apology, and then he’s leaving the kitchen in a quick hurry. Logan bites his lip, looking down at Remus, for a moment neither of them knows what to do until the taller man snorts, burying his face in Logan’s neck to stifle the giggles pouring out of his lips. The other laughs too, he can’t help it, just the breathy sound of the other’s laughter setting him straight off. He covers his mouth to try and stop the sound bubbling out too loudly. 

“He’s probably going to go and pray over that,” Remus mutters when he finally stops laughing, before pressing soft kisses to the others’ neck. “It probably got him a little hot and bothered, let’s be honest, especially with you all flushed and pretty.” Logan chokes on his laughter then, smiling as he leans his head to the side. “I suppose we’re not learning from mistakes today?” He asks, his hand squeezing Logan’s thigh. 

“Maybe we should move from the kitchen.” The brunet suggests quietly, not really wanting to move at all. Still, he would really like to not have an audience more than of that that is required, at least it was just Patton, he’d have been mortified if it had been Roman. 

Yet, on the list of people he’d like to have walk-in on him getting a hand job from another man, perhaps one that wears a crucifix everywhere would not have been in the top five, or ten, or hundred. 

He shuffles off the counter, wincing a little as he adjusts himself in his boxers before Remus is dragging him along to his room. His skin feels flushed and his body feels a little weak, not in an alarming way, just in a very relaxed sort, he knows he’s shaking a little and that might be a lot to do with the fact he hadn’t eaten in a while and now he has so much adrenaline coursing through him he doesn’t really know what to do with. 

Logan might remember lying down on Remus’ bed for the rest of his life, might remember the way the other leans over him and kisses him hard and fast, or his hand slipping into his pants and wrapping around his hard cock. He might remember the noises that he hadn’t learned how to restrain coming from his mouth or the look that’s just short of arousal-induced adoration on his partner’s face. He’ll definitely remember the first time he had an orgasm that intense though. His whole body seemed to tense up with anticipation, and he gasps out Remus’ name, loud and clear and it amuses the other as he spills over his hand. It felt like it lasted for whole minutes, the way the seconds of pleasure dragged until he’s wincing from overstimulation; then he had to lie very still because the whole room was spinning and his body feels like jelly. 

“Good?” Remus asked, a tint of amusement in his tone as he licks cum off his hand like it’s nothing. 

“I can’t see straight.” Logan admits, followed by a short laugh of disbelief “Holy shit, Remus,” The bearded man laughs again, and flops down beside the other man “Do you want me to…?”

“Na, the look on your face will serve me for a good few months.” And once again, Logan blushes. 

\--

The rest of the week goes by without much hassle, except of course the various teases pertaining to Logan’s inability to keep his mouth shut, and some vaguely embarrassing replications of said sounds from Janus and Roman, who are equally amused by the whole ordeal. Logan wonders if Roman finds it uncomfortable but he just shrugs when asked “I lived with Remus my entire life, I’m far too used to this, besides it’s just another thing I can bully him about, and by proxy, you,” the redhead grins at the other man “I used to find it awkward, ‘cause like, he’s my brother, you know? But I’m so desensitised to worst shit than sex noises I feel like this isn’t even something worth complaining about anymore.” 

Patton still refuses to look either of them in the eye, and he seems to tense anytime anyone comes near him like he’s afraid of being touched by any of them. Logan isn’t used to that sort of feeling, he’s hardly used to being gay, if that’s what he is, so at first the clear rejection had him feeling sort of...angry, and upset. But then Remus would squeeze his shoulder or Roman would attempt to do something ridiculous, or Janus would bluntly ask if everything’s okay and the feeling would slip.

Is this what having friends feels like? He asks himself, feeling protected? He’s not known them more than a week but, they are pretty much all he’s seen and heard from in a week so it feels like longer, somehow. It’s a nice feeling, he decides, and he isn’t sure why he never tried this before. Yes, he’s never had the time, but he also never had the want or need for it, either. Perhaps because he already knew somewhere, deep down, that he was different from the rich kids at his school, flirting with girls and spending all of their parent’s money. Perhaps he just wasn’t in a situation he could accept that. 

He remembers the first night, them all drinking, a sense of relief that accompanied their open expressions of their sexuality. Logan had, for the first time in his life, felt comfortable in a room of strangers and by the end of the week, they were the only friends that he had.

Then, he supposes, that’s just what university is _like_.


	2. Week Two: Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Patton have a chat, Remus and Logan catch a breath.

Roman has loved dance most of his life; sometimes he wonders when that had started, it was certainly no love incubated by his parents or indeed anyone in his life at all, it was simply a need to express everything that he couldn’t, in ways no-one but himself could understand. When he dances he feels like he’s speaking in his own language. 

See, no-one in his life had ever really taught him how to cope, so the young man had taught himself his own mechanisms to stop an explosion occurring every-time he felt negatively. His parents' idea of emotional management is to have all the outward expression of a teaspoon, and his brother feels so much so fast that he barely pauses for a breath, Roman, in this regard, had been alone to his own devices.

So choosing performing arts as his path in life had seemed the natural progression once he understood how the human body can _move_. How it can feel, how sadness can be shown in fluid movements and not just tears.

Between classes he likes to spend time in the auditorium, just him and his movements and the music, it makes him feel as calm as a windless sea, or perhaps a summer breeze. It’s the only real peace and quiet he gets if he’s honest, in a room far too big for one person, and owning a stage that should take more than one body to fill it. 

Roman is not used to being interrupted, either, which is probably why he doesn’t notice the door open and closed, and someone walk towards the stage, a look of awe set in a face used to expressing only anxiety. When he does notice, he pauses and jumps, clearly startled, and his hands fall by his sides as he steps towards the front of the stage. “Sorry,” Patton’s timid voice breaks the sound of music trailing off “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I don’t own the auditorium,” the words come out much blunter, more chaste than he’d intended, there’s just a brunt force of discomfort with this person witnessing something that was personal to himself. Not that he doesn’t dance in front of thousands, but that is practised and controlled, what he’s doing alone is...experimental, personal. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, it’s...nothing,” the jitters return, and Roman wonders if this man will ever look him in the eyes “you’re a really good dancer.”

“I know,” The redhead grabs his bottle of water and sits down on the edge of the stage, wiping sweat off his forehead before he unscrews the cap and chugs. “Do you sing or something?” Patton shuffles his weight from one foot to another as though he’s being scrutinised, the nervousness written all over him is an easy one to read. “It’s all right you know, I don’t bite, and I won’t make fun of you.”

The smaller man sighs and nods “I like to sing, I don’t think I’m very good at it, though, it’s just something that makes me happy.” Roman nods and then gestures to the stage. “Oh no, I can’t I’ve not sung in front of anyone alone before,” 

“Well if you don’t try it once then you never will, and if you’ve been coming here, I get the feeling you want to.” Patton stares up at him long and hard, before he sighs and puts his bag down on one of the seats. He’s shaking as he walks up the stairs, gripping the handrail firmly as the stage creaks just a little, its age showing under his weight. Roman pats the wood next to him and Patton sits down “Is there a particular song or…?”

“No, I just put my Spotify on shuffle,” Roman nods and crosses his legs as Patton pulls out his phone, his hands are still shaking, and the actor pities the nervousness; he used to feel like that all the time too. “Is it weird to feel this scared?”

“No, that’s pretty much par for the course with any type of performing, but I promise you no matter what I won’t laugh or lie to you, and once you start managing this, then maybe we could see about getting you in front of a larger audience if that’s what you want.” The other shrugs a little, looking down at his phone. 

“It’s what I used to want,” he admits quietly, biting his lip “but it’s not exactly something my parents would approve of, and this is my first time breathing without them over my shoulder.” There’s a quiet understanding in this, that tells Roman that Patton is not everything he seems; he’d assumed the other would’ve blindly followed his elders anywhere, but now he’s not so sure. 

“Start whenever you’d like,” the green-eyed man offers a tight smile of reassurance to his companion, leaning back on his hands as the music plays through the battered speaker of Patton’s phone.

The introduction is soft and longer than Roman had expected, but he waits patiently, enjoying the soft sounds of strings and something else that he thinks is artificial. He’s never heard the song before so when Patton opens his mouth to sing he isn’t expecting it. He isn’t expecting that either, that sound that comes from him, in Roman’s hyper brain that sound is more quieting than any drug Remus could ever have given him. His voice is so calm despite the way his hands shake, gentle despite the hard look in his eyes, and so much emotion shoots through the redhead as he listens, a cascade of feelings that for a moment he thinks he could be drowning and not know the difference.

He has always been uncomfortable around genuine emotion but even he can’t escape the lulled rhythm of his heart or the way the air gets knocked out of his body as he listens to Patton sing. He’d expected to feel more awkward, more uncomfortable, but mostly he wants to lie down and listen to what he assumed angels sound like all day. 

He almost thinks he hears himself fall in love with that voice. 

By the time Patton stops, minutes later, Roman doesn’t realise that there are tears in his eyes. The other man seems to panic, apologising, saying he didn’t mean to make him cry, but the green-eyed man smiles and shakes his head “No, thank you, I can’t remember the last time I actually cried, what…” he takes a deep breath to stop his voice from cracking “What song is that?” 

“It’s called Sorrow, it’s by Sleeping at Last,” Patton holds up his phone to show the album art, in case Roman ever wants to find it. “Was it good?” Roman nods.

“Dude, you should be on my course with a voice like that, have you ever had any sort of training?” A short laugh comes from the blond’s lips, shaking his head with the smallest of shrugs, struggling to reply with that smile on Roman’s face. Not again, he thinks absently to himself, I really don’t want to do this again. 

“No, I mean I was in my church choir but I’ve never had any formal training, in high school my teacher said my voice was a gift from God, and I think that’s the only time I’ve ever really...felt special, you know? But it’s just a voice, and there’s better, and I can’t handle crowds of people without shaking.” 

“No offence but you can barely handle crowds of one person without shaking.” Roman doesn’t really think, he just takes Patton’s hand and holds it up as if to demonstrate a point. Patton doesn’t stop shaking, but his expression went sort of blank, and then he shivered a little; the redhead doesn’t miss the way colour flushed to the other man’s cheeks or the way he pulls his hand back being almost violent. “Sorry I didn’t...I wasn’t coming onto you or anything I was just…” He panics because the expression on Patton’s face is utterly unreadable, and for some reason the idea of the other thinking the situation was anything other than what it was, scares him. 

“No...i-it’s okay,” Patton sighs “It’s not your fault, I’m just jumpy and unused to…” He trails off “...affection, especially from other men,” He looks down at his hands “It’s not something that I am supposed to enjoy, so I get a little intimidated by how everyone out here in the city just...touches each other, and…” his cheeks heat a little “...don’t have much reserve for such things, in both a platonic and romantic way.”

“If you’re referring to Logan and Remus I doubt there is much love there,” Roman chuckles and shakes his head “but I suppose you were raised to believe that sex and romance are intrinsic.” Patton looks a little confused, tucking a curl behind his ear as he looks up at the redhead, as though waiting for more explanation. “Well, Logan and Remus have only known each other a week and a bit, do you think that’s enough time to fall in love?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He asks, softly and confused, and Roman realises that he’s talking to the sort of person whose family would pawn him off to a pretty girl with a rich family, and he wouldn’t know the difference between that and true love.

“Love doesn’t just happen like that, Patton, first there is attraction, a crush, hormones...it takes months to really love someone, to get to know them and understand the parts you like and dislike and then working through the problems to find solutions, it’s learning how to be with them and also without them; one day Logan and Remus might love each other, but right now they’re just fucking around because one of them is finally free from the constraints of societal pressure and the other would fuck anything with a pulse.” The smaller man shifts uncomfortably where he sits, his hair falling into his eyes and he digests the information given to him. “Sex and romance don’t have to be the same thing, well it isn’t for us, I suppose for you they might be because of the way you were raised and that’s okay too, to want them to be the same thing...it’s just not okay to judge other people for that.”

“It’s not my place to judge anyone,” Patton shakes his head “It’s just all very new, you know?” Roman does know, so he nods and rests his own hands on his lap as the other takes a deep breath in. “Some part of me wants to say it’s wrong, but it wouldn’t make sense, really...would it?” He asks like he’s begging Roman to tell him it’s okay, an eagerness in his expression that is clouded only by his sadness. It takes the other man aback for a second as he registers something in the expression that makes his heart feel hollow. 

“You’re raised to believe that God doesn’t make mistakes, that there is nothing and no-one that he doesn’t love, of course it doesn’t make sense for him to believe queer people are a sin,” he shrugs slightly “I was raised to believe that too, I just decided that they were wrong, I mean if there is a God, and I don’t know whether that is true or not, they wouldn’t make me like this just to hate me, surely? We’re raised to believe that God doesn’t make mistakes and that we must unequivocally trust the plans of our deity, but then insist that gay people are a mistake...it doesn’t make sense like that, I think that in truth a book was written in the social constraints of a society that just didn’t understand, and now hundreds of years later we can’t separate fact from fiction.” Roman meets Patton’s eyes for a heavy moment “In honest truth, how do we really know that the Bible is the word of God? How do we know that every sentence in it was written with the Holy Spirit, and how much of it was the opinions of men who like to control all that is different?”

Patton’s shoulders sag a little as he looks away, barely able to handle the intensity of his companion’s gaze, or the words coming from his mouth. “It’s hard to let go of what I was taught, I want to, believe me you have no idea how much I want to, but that is all I’ve had my entire life, my religion.”

“In other religions questioning their faith is almost imperative to their belief, would God want you to follow his word because you have been told over and over again, or because you have examined every angle and have chosen your own path, a path that according to christianity, he already chose for you?” The taller man sighs again “Put it this way, what is written in the bible was written by men, not God himself, nothing really stops these men writing down what they want others to believe, is there?”

“I think that’s blasphemy,”

“I think it’s _common sense_ ,” Roman snorts a little, sitting up a little and stretching his back. “Either way, Patton, you can either ask to swap flats with someone or deal with the fact you’re rooming with five gay men, it’s up to you...but you can’t go through your entire life scared of affection from other men, or affection in general.” He glances at the other, at his white button down and faded blue jeans, his sneakers are a little battered but it’s very clear he dresses to blend in. “I need to go get lunch, but...think about it Patton, you clearly don’t enjoy being homophobic, so maybe that’s something you should change.”

Patton sits in his silence as Roman stands up to leave, but he doesn’t say anything at all as he watches him walk away. 

\--

Logan does not feel quite like himself. He lies back in Remus’ bed, staring at the ceiling and making shapes out of the patterns of the cracks that adorn it; this is an old building, he’d realised that the moment he’d walked in, but as he stares at the cracks he understands that it’s not only old, but a little unkempt. His thoughts tangle for a moment, something he is unused to...these quiet little moments. Noticing the cracks in the ceiling. 

He shivers and sits up, a heavy feeling starting in the pit of his stomach and soaking into his chest. Remus notices the disturbances and opens his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as his hand comes to rest on the other man’s bare back, his fingertips grazing some healing scratch marks from a frantic fit of passion. “Are you alright?” Logan opens his mouth, and then closes it again, bringing his hand to his cheek. 

_He’s crying._

“I...I don’t understand what’s wrong,” he whispers gently, closing his eyes and feeling his damp lashes graze his skin before he wipes them firmly. “I feel... _bad_.”

Remus sits up beside him, urging the other to shuffle back to lean against the headboard, Logan does as he is gestured to do so, his head resting back against the wall as it had earlier today for a whole new reason. “You have to think a little about why you feel bad, is there any problem that is coming to mind? Any trigger? What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” it’s a true enough statement. “We just lay down and suddenly I felt cold, as though all the energy just went out of my body and suddenly I felt like I needed to cry.” Remus nods and wraps his arm around Logan’s shoulder. 

“That’s normal, all the adrenaline is leaving your system and this is the first bit of real peace and quiet you’ve had in a while, you’re always going from one thing to another and now you’re tired and have nothing to do, your big old brain is just adjusting to the lack of energy following a good fuck.” He presses a kiss to the side of his head firmly and playfully, and Logan smiles at the little comfort. “Besides, you went a long time knowing what sex was and having little interest in it, now you’ve started doing this every day and your body is a little confused, everyone’s first time can be a little anxiety inducing and yours was entirely unplanned, even if you didn’t consider it a big deal, it’s still a long time of having nobody else see or touch your body and suddenly for a week straight I can’t keep my hands off you,” his eyes flicker over the other’s bare chest “...or mouth for that matter.” 

“That makes sense,” Logan admits quietly, nuzzling against Remus gently “I admit, I hadn’t considered the emotional effects, I have always considered sex to simply be a form of release, physical pleasure, but I have also never considered myself to be emotional in any degree, I have gone most of my life feeling neither happy nor sad.” 

The ebony haired man’s smile slips and he recoils a little, looking down at the other carefully “Seriously?” His voice hitches between surprise and horror, looking down at the man still tucked under one of his arms with melancholy wonder. “How have you lived or survived this way?” Remus has never felt anything in small doses in his life, even now his mind is like the inside of a train station, with new routes being planned every minute by the drivers. 

“It’s the way I was raised, men to be stoic and calm at all times, and at some point I just...stopped really feeling as well,” he frowns a little, his eyebrows drawn together as he shrugs “I suppose all this is quite a few bursts of euphoria that I’m not quite used to feeling, it’s addictive.” He looks at Remus, looks him in the eyes and inhales deeply when he sees the worry in them “Don’t...worry, I’m not going to become a sex addict or anything of the like, I simply feel as though eventually it will become normal to me, and right now it isn’t, so it’s a craving or hunger that can’t be satiated...always needing more.”

“I’ve noticed,” the dark-haired man leans up to capture Logan’s lips in his own, gently, with no promise of more; it’s the first time he’s kissed anyone like that in a long time, a simple need for the smallest admittance: ‘I am here, I am listening, I care’. Perhaps that is a wonderful thing, that Logan is changing, Remus just never saw himself as a rehabilitation centre for someone who didn’t know how to love, only a short-term fix like heroin in a needle. “Maybe we should slow down, stop for a little while, whilst you…” He’s cut off by a kiss, firmer than the one he’d just given, Logan’s teeth nip at his bottom lip and Remus shivers.

“No,” it’s mumbled against his lips after the heat has died, and Logan pulls away to smile at the dazed expression on the other’s face “I’m not quite in the mood for common sense and the right course of action when I’m with you, reasoning and logic and everything I’ve ever known just seems to disintegrate.” He kisses him again, just a peck, their foreheads resting together and breath ghosting each other’s lips. “It’s a very liberating feeling even if the aftermath is such chaos, the best way to adjust is to keep going.”

Remus is not going to argue with that, he trusts Logan to know himself.


	3. Week Three: Foreigners God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Janus take care of each other, Patton is desperate for anyone to care.

“I think Roman has a crush,” Virgil muses quietly, his back leaning against the arm of the couch with his feet up on his boyfriend’s lap, “every time Patton walks into the room he sits up like a puppy missing it’s owner and stares not nearly as subtly as he _thinks_ he’s doing.” The violet-haired man looks over at his partner, who snorts, turning the page of the book in his hand as though he’s only half interested in the gossip (Virgil has known him long enough to know he’s _very_ interested). “I’d feel bad if it wasn’t just a little funny.”

“That’s going to end in tears,” Janus muses lightly, his eyes on the page he’s reading, “Patton can barely stand being in the room as any of us, and if he finds out Roman has feelings for him, he will run, if he’s lucky anyway, if not he’ll do far worse.” He sighs, lips fixed in a frown as he looks up from the page finally, his book resting against Virgil’s shins. “Do you think Roman is aware of the violent nature of homophobes? Even if Patton appears small and nonthreatening, when provoked you can find even the softest appearing of his lot can grab a pitchfork.” 

“He’s probably well aware, _if_ he’s not an idiot,” he pauses for a second “but that is a big if.” The blonde snorts in reply again, shaking his head and picking up his book, Virgil rolls his eyes. “Babe pay attention to me,” He pokes the other’s thigh with his foot. 

“See this is why I do my reading in the living room, so you and your little minx ways will leave me be.” He’s smiling though as he speaks, and Virgil smiles too as he sits up and shuffles closer to press a teasing kiss to the other’s neck. “You’re the worst,” Janus mutters, eyes closing as the purple-haired man sucks ever so slightly at the skin of his neck. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night babe,” Janus accepts the hand in his and lets his lover drag him to his bedroom. There was a time where sex had been something terrifying to Virgil, in his mid-teens everyone around him seemed destined to fall in love, but he’d found it hard to even look in a mirror, the idea of anyone touching his body made him feel like a ghost. He’d learned sometime later that was due to the fact his body didn’t feel comfortable to him. About a year later he’d started testosterone. 

He’d known Janus then, they’d been best friends and had been that way since they were much younger. It wasn’t until Virgil started being able to look himself in the eye that he’d understood his feelings for the other man. He remembered that fear of being touched like some old friend, and finds it nothing less than amusing now because he can’t quite get enough of Janus’ scarred hands on his body. 

It makes him feel like he’s alive. Not a ghost at _all_. 

Janus’ hands grips his hips and press him against the closed door of his own bedroom, their bodies pushing together as sharp teeth nip Virgil’s bottom lip; his entire body caves into the heat of the touch, rocking his hips for the slightest stimulation. “What’re you feeling today?” The blond asks, lips trailing to his partner’s neck, sucking and biting and kissing as much skin as he can find and taste. 

“Bottom, a little light headed but not particularly submissive.” 

“Got it,” Virgil barely realises he’s being lifted up until his legs are locked around the other’s waist, a light laugh on his lips as he’s carried across the room and lay on the bed. He spreads his legs easily for the other to get on top of him, Janus leaning down to kiss him again, warmly but not particularly heatedly at first. He likes to taste Virgil, likes to really feel him and enjoy the moment, rocking their clothed hips together so that his partner can feel his growing hardness. 

Virgil, however, has always been a little more frantic, a whine escaping his throat at the slow movements. He can feel the other smile at his frustrations and that only irritates him more but that’s simply how this relationship works, he thinks. Teasing each other in a playful manner until one of them snaps, not in an explosive or uncomfortable way, but just for a small laugh and a whine. Janus pulls away, his hands going to unbutton Virgil’s jeans, making his way through both of their layers whilst the other man stares up at him with a grin.

There’s always a strange sense of relief of that moment when his partner just sinks into him, like his entire body stops feeling so frantic and his hands hold onto whatever part of Janus’ body they can gravitate towards. And Janus kisses him. Warmly, softly, drawing his hips back and pushing in, feeling the pressure in their bodies in a rhythmic dance that they’ve long since known all the moves too. The first time hadn’t been so smooth, it had been clumsy and Virgil had been blushing and then laughing and the two of them had giggled against each other’s lips, it had taken much longer, but the amount of laughter and smiles between them refuses to change. 

Virgil likes being fucked, not particularly sexually, he never gets an orgasm from it unless you count the time he was a little high and had felt every nerve in his body set on fire. But he enjoys the feeling. The closeness, the experience of the other’s breath against his neck and lips and chest, the feeling of hands on his body, every inch of his lover against himself. 

Janus fucks him after taking his time to enjoy the drag and writhing of the person underneath him, admiring the way Virgil’s cheeks are flushed and his breath his short, and the blush runs down to his scarred chest. He fucks him hard and fast and savours every moan and whimper and gasp for air, every beg for more, and every dazed smile amongst the franticness. He fucks him until his arms and legs are shaking and he bites down on his own lip, hard, to stifle the guttural sound ripping from his vocal chords, spilling into his partner. 

The blond catches his breath as he pulls out and slides the condom off with a slight wince, tying it off and chucking it onto the floor somewhere, more concerned with the absolute treat lying underneath him. His head sinks between the other’s legs, his tongue pressing between Virgil’s folds just to taste him on his tongue before he runs his tongue over his clit lightly. The purple-haired man jolts a little, a small sigh on his lips, before Janus sucks at it, using his tongue as stimulation. 

It takes Virgil longer, and he’s okay with that, even when his jaw starts to hurt and his neck starts to ache, and his legs start to experience pins and needles. He’s more than happy to service the other, he enjoys the feeling of his body being used as a tool of pleasure, and the sweet reward of Virgil’s moans and jarred movements as his entire body twitches and shakes and shivers makes it entirely worth it. In truth, Janus has never been very good at doing as he’s told, but for Virgil...to Virgil, he’d do anything he was asked. 

\--

Patton is getting used to the sounds of sex through the walls. He’d never known what they’d sounded like if he’s honest, he’d never looked for what that sounded like; he’d known somehow, distantly, through boys at his school being keen to make anyone blush by being lewd in their words and sounds. But he’d never heard it, real and actual sex. The university walls are thin, these are old rooms and they’ve been renovated about as much as legally required and not much more. So he should’ve expected it. He should’ve expected the feeling too. 

Is it wrong, he wonders, to enjoy the noise? Not really the sound of skin on skin, or the passionate moans, or the bed creaking underneath their weight, but the gasping of another’s name, and the hoarse ‘i love you’s’. Because he hears that clear as day, he hears Virgil’s voice, rough and pleading as he tells his lover he loves him, and Patton realises he has never heard anyone say that to him, especially not with so much force behind it. Like the world will run to dust if he doesn’t say the words “I love you”. 

Patton does not think he has ever loved someone, he doesn’t think he’s ever been loved either. He’s never dated anyone, never held someone’s hand, never had so much as a friend to confide with, maybe that’s why he hopped on the first place he could the second he had the chance. To see the world, be a real man, his father had said, but he’d known then that he has no intention of coming back any faster than he has to. He’d been raised to believe his only right in life was to get married and have a child and raise them to be good christians, he’s not sure what that means anymore, if there’s such a thing. 

He closes his eyes and waits for the sounds to stop, ignoring the way it twists in his gut; how hot his skin feels and how cold the room is, he ignores this and the way his heart thunders in his chest and he wants to cry. There’s a hollow shame in dragging himself into the shower and feeling the cold water against his flushed skin. He does not cry, he tells himself he cannot cry, real men don’t cry. Yet Patton had always been a sensitive soul, his father used to crush spiders in front of him just to tell him he was weak for throwing a fit. His mother had said love for God’s creatures is a wonderful thing, had she known then what Patton was? That he had too much heart for the future that they wanted for him?

By the time he drags himself out of the shower there are tears in his eyes and he is shivering, a towel wrapped around his waist as the frozen air drapes over him. Is this his destiny? Cold and alone and never truly loved? Is it worth it for his father’s love? For his God’s love? He thinks about what Roman had said, the way he’d spoken as though he’d been through it all before, had bargained with a preacher and found himself content with his own existence. Patton thinks about Roman in general, his deep green eyes, his messy red hair, the way his body moves when he dances. Nothing that moves like that could be anything less than sacred, Patton is sure, and yet the feeling of staring at the other man had felt something unholy. 

Patton had known since he was eleven years old. 

But he’d never thought it to matter, he’d thought it normal, a temptation he must dismiss and ignore...he hadn’t realised he felt no romantic or sexual love for women at all. Not until years had passed and the boys were trying to see up the girls skirts and he felt no desire for that at all, plus distressing young women seemed hardly like God’s plan. He’d almost thought it was compassion and empathy that had stopped him being straight, but soon he’d come to understand it to be simply the way he is. Not a test, nor a fight, simply a blockade between himself and his religion that he can never be rid of. 

His father had brought home a pretty girl on his sixteenth birthday, asked him what he thought of her. Patton had been a little confused “Well, she seems nice, polite, friendly,” he’d divulged, more interested in his birthday cake than a stranger, but he’d sat and talked to her and she was genuinely lovely, a wonderful young woman, which is probably why he told his father he didn’t like her, and found her dull. Because halfway through he’d understood his father’s intentions, and he was not trapping a young girl in a marriage she had no say in to a man who could never love her or touch her the way she desires. Man, woman, these are the wrong words, they were _children_. “She should go find herself an education,” he’d told his mother as they were cleaning up “and get away from the people using her like a casino token.” It’s the only time she’d seen him angry, or scared, or upset, and it was the day she’d understood one day her son would leave and never come back. 

She did get out, Patton discovered with glee one morning, she packed a bag and ran, and he’d never been happier for a near stranger in his life. He hopes she is happy now, safe, somewhere someone would help her get her own life. 

But that still leaves himself. 

The curly-haired man grabs a shirt and pants to dress against the cold of the room, his hair still wet as he grabs a towel. There’s only so long he can fight this fight, he’s surrounded on all sides by people who have the answers to his questions, people who can really, _really_ help him. A person who can really help him. A person who he cannot stop thinking about since he first laid eyes on him. Roman. It’s not the hair or the smile or the freckled skin, it’s the kindness, the understanding, the way he metaphorically reaches out his hand to someone he knows could hurt him because he simply cares. 

That and, aesthetically, he _is_ beautiful. 

Patton opens the door and goes to the kitchen, he makes himself dinner and thinks about the heat of the pan on his skin, thinks about heat on his skin, closes his eyes for a moment and turns his thoughts somewhere else. He’s still scared of his own mind, like somehow even thinking things are thoughts that can be heard; but isn’t that the point of a God? That they are all-knowing? Maybe that’s why he’s so scared all the time, like his greatest secrets are constantly on show and he is trying so desperately to hide them, an eternal fear of being known. 

The kitchen door opens and there’s soft singing accompanying tinny music through headphones. “Good afternoon, Patton,” Patton bites his own lip and jumps a little, the other sighs and it sounds so...well, sad. It sounds sad. Sad and it’s Patton’s fault, and he knows it, so he offers Roman a tired and hopefully convincing smile, his messy curls falling damp into his eyes as he stirs vegetables around a pan. “What’re you making?” The redhead asks, moving over to the freezer to grab something out of it. Burgers and chips for dinner, it would appear. 

“It’s chickpeas, onions, peppers and kale, with fried eggs in mozzarella cheese,” Roman nods, making an expression that he hopes conveys the words ‘I’m impressed’ before he grabs the baking tray out of his cupboard, it makes a loud clanging sound and Patton jumps again. 

“Sorry, mind if I squeeze into that oven, I mean the food, I’m not cooking myself, I’m already a delicious snack as it is,” The blond blushes a little with that thought, and wordlessly steps to the side so Roman can put his food in the oven, his hand moving to turn the knob. There’s an inexplicable closeness to the situation, perhaps he has really been so deprived of the need to be touched that there’s a subtle yearning for even their hands to brush. It feels like the entire world has had a hug once and Patton can’t recall if anyone but his mother had given him such a thing. “Are you...all right, Patton?” 

He realises he has been staring at the space Roman’s hand had been on the knob, wishing somehow that it was his own hand and again, screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. Roman, of course, thinks this means Patton is not okay and begins to stutter, refusing to come any closer in case his actions are misrepresented, and that only frustrates the blond more. This is his own fault for ostracising the others but he just wants a hug, he wants to know, wants to remember what that _feels_ like. 

His own recklessness, maybe the first time he’s ever been reckless in his life, makes his decisions for him. He drops the wooden spoon against the pan and wraps his arms tight around Roman’s waist, his face buried against his chest. The redhead freezes, his hands faltering to the side of his body as panic fills him, why is Patton hugging him? Is this a trick? He doesn’t know what to do at all, stiff in Patton’s arms as he tries to understand exactly what is happening, what has triggered this response, if he’s going to be hurt for it. 

But Patton does not pull away, and he listens to Roman’s heartbeat in his chest, fast and erratic and confused, he can feel his weight against him and the feeling of warmth and all he can think is _by God, this man smells so good_. And how he wants more of this. And how he’s never felt good with physical comfort, but a cautious hand rests at the middle of his back and Patton just wants to cry. Not out of sadness or shame or disgust but because he feels warmer and more comfortable than he ever had.

Love, Roman had said, takes months and years of effort and energy, understanding a person’s flaws and their positives and working through the problems they have. Love, is not something that happens quick and fast, and sure, Patton has never known what love is and has never been loved a day in his life, but if it feels like _this_ , feels like a warm body against your own, he’d sell his soul and take it, damn the consequences. 

By the time Roman has relaxed, confused still, but arms around Patton, he thinks he understands what he is wordlessly being told. “It’s okay,” he says quietly “I understand.” That’s more important than love, being understood and understanding someone, it’s why love is not a fast or quick affair and is months of discourse and boundaries and drawing lines in the sand. To be understood is the most Patton could ever ask for. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, gently, his eyes closing for a moment as he pulls away “I just wondered what it was like, a hug, you know? It’s been years.” Roman’s expression is soft and cautious and wildly upset, but Patton does not take this personally. “I honestly don’t think anyone has hugged me since my pre-teens, and sometimes I just crave that,” _I crave it from you,_ he thinks silently to himself, _for the last week since we were sat in that auditorium I wanted to hold your hand and know what it is like to hug you_. And now he knows, and the answer is it’s warm and smells like summer fruits and the feeling of someone’s heartbeat is like a metronome ticking back in the most comforting way possible. 

“It’s okay, I get it,” Roman mutters, his expression calm but no sadder than usual “I was super touch starved for a while because me and Remus had this idea in our heads that we hated each other, to be honest I just wasn’t understanding that he was dealing with a lot and on his own, and he didn’t know how to properly communicate that,” the redhead leans against the kitchen counter and sighs, “I still don’t really understand, I won’t lie, I mean he’s my brother and I love him and he’s all I’ve had for years...but I don’t understand him, and we weren’t very close even when it was us against the world.” Patton nods, indicating he is listening. “Sometimes we assume we know what’s best for ourselves, but we don’t always know, and then we have to challenge our own thoughts to understand why we feel the way we feel, and people like us...no-one has taught us how to know what we feel and why we feel it, that’s just the way we grew up; but I’m glad you identified a problem and solved it, just next time maybe give me more warning, Pat.” He smiles, warm and caring, and for some reason the smaller man feels he needs to blush. 

“I shall,” he smiles back, a little sheepishly. “It was just a very overwhelming feeling, like my heart would burst open if I didn’t...hug you?” Roman nods, the smile does not drop, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes, still he is aware that Patton isn’t really ready to face the music on that yet, so he turns back to the cooker.

“Shall we continue making dinner before one of us drops from sleep deprivation? You can show me how to make this delicious mixture of greens” For the first time, Patton does not smile, he grins. A cheeky sort of look dripping with actual personality, as he turns back to the cooker with intentions to cook; unbeknownst to himself Roman watches with a feeling creeping through his chest that he neither likes nor dislikes, but is fairly certain is infatuation.


	4. Week Four: Family Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Religious trauma, religious guilt, physical abuse, scars, emotional abuse, parental abuse - past and present. Mentioned self harm tendencies in the past (Remus), and anger management problems (also Remus). This chapter is very sad and very heavy and has explicit descriptions of physical abuse scars and bruising.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway has Roman looking up from his pan of vegetables, of which he is almost certain are burning. Remus is sat on the couch with a lapful of Logan, the bearded man scrolling through his phone, whilst the smaller lies back against his chest, a textbook open on his knees; both are waiting for Roman to finish making their lunch, mainly because Logan has bags under his eyes (Roman’d felt bad for him) and Remus can’t resist pestering for a free meal. 

But as the kitchen door opens, the redhead turns to look up at the new person who enters, unable to mistake those blonde curls or resist the grin on his own face when he sees his...acquaintance. “Good afternoon Patton,” the smaller man smiles up at him and nods; it’s then that something really does capture Roman’s attention, and Remus’ too by the way his eyebrows raise, head turned to stare at the other man. 

Patton is wearing a vest, a baggy one that exposes most of his chest and sides, brushing against his thighs. It’s a warm day today, so the other wearing summer indoor clothes shouldn’t be surprising. It isn’t really until Logan looks up and his face falls a little that Roman notes something is wrong, though, not that Patton is wearing very little today, but that when he turns his back is...discoloured. “Shit.” Remus mutters, at a lack for subtlety or any other word “Patton, what the fuck happened to your back?” His forceful tone makes the small man jump a little and he looks up, wide-eyed and confused. 

“It’s just a few bruises.” He whispered “Does it really look that bad?” The insecure tone has Logan sliding off of his partner’s lap, approaching the blonde, he blinks a little, sighing as he remembers that these are issues to be treated with delicacy. 

“Do you mind if I take a look? Touch them, I just want to see how severe they are.” Patton nods, but the confusion doesn’t leave his face as he faces his back to Logan. The brunet is not exactly an emotional man, there are very few things and times in his life in which he feels have elicited a truly emotional response, but as he pushes the vest a little to the side he almost chokes. “These aren’t at an angle to be self inflicted.” He doesn’t know why he says it like that’s supposed to be reassuring. Because if Patton didn’t do this to himself...these are not natural scars, this is very violently inflicted scarring. There are healing thin red scars that look like lashes, of heavy leather or perhaps something more torturous. “Who...who did this to you?”

Patton turns around and looks to the other, and then Roman, whose hand is pressed firmly over his mouth like he’s trying to stop himself from crying. Remus just looks angry, not in a way that Patton can determine it to be himself that the other is angry at, but like a stormcloud is hanging over his head. 

The kitchen door opens again, and any laughter on Virgil’s lips as he enters dies, Patton looks at him, and the purple-haired man falters a little. And then, like Remus, there is only anger on his face. Janus presses his hand to his boyfriend’s shoulder, easing the fury that wants to bubble. “Patton, who did that to you?” Logan repeats, his voice gentle and calm and the only person who doesn’t look like all his emotions are about to spill all over the floor. 

“Is it not...normal?” 

Remus stands up, and walks straight out of the room, Roman looks after him but doesn’t follow, even though his hands are shaking profusely where they’ve now come to rest by his sides. The frying pan makes a popping noise, smoke pouring from it, the vegetables are long since forgotten in their burning and charred ash. Janus sighs but not in a way that is easy or forgiving, it’s the sigh of someone who has seen bruises like that before, a long time ago, and didn’t think he’d ever have to witness it again. His hand slips off of Virgil’s shoulder and he moves past Roman to take the remnants of the food off the stove, turning off the hob as the remains of oil fizzes on the metal surface of the pan. 

“Let’s have a cup of tea.” He says gently “And stop scrutinising the poor boy, Virgil do you have some of that cream you use for scarring? Roman, can you boil the kettle, and Logan you go and sit him down on the couch.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second. “Roman,” the blond mutters quietly to the other “I know you want to support Patton, I understand, but you’re scaring him right now, so please, boil the kettle, and go and see if Remus is okay, we’ll sort this out okay?” The redhead nods, clicking the kettle on and then wanders out the door with an absent expression on his face, Patton watches him leave feeling like he’s in a room full of strangers. But at the same time, seeing Roman shake like that felt like someone was raking daggers through his chest. 

“It’s okay,” Logan smiles in the way that only Logan does, tight and small but reassuring. Patton believes him too. “Do you think you may be...able to talk about it, Patton?” 

“I didn’t know it wasn’t normal.” He admitted quietly, shaking his head, a moment later Janus is placing a hot cup of tea on the coffee table. The door opens and Virgil places a tub of cream next to the cup of coffee and sits down opposite the other. There’s no pity in his eyes, and that feels nice to witness like he isn’t something broke that needs to be fixed, but just someone who needs help. Patton did not know he _needed_ help. 

“It’s not normal, but it’s also _not_ your fault,” Janus says seriously, there’s something hard in his look. “I’ve seen bruising like this before, my stepbrother on my mother’s side came to live with me, my father and my stepmother when I was about thirteen, he was two years older than me and we basically grew up together until my parents’ divorce about four years prior; when he got here he didn’t look the same, he was pale and skinny and bruised, had cuts all over his back and I just remember thinking had he got into a fight? Was he being sent here as some sort of punishment? It didn’t even cross my mind that my own mother could do something like that.” he laughs shortly and without humour “But I learned how to help him, we went to therapy together and separately so I could learn how to help him through his post-traumatic stress disorder, and how to help him clean the cuts and bruises whilst they were still healing; so I know what bruises like that come from, Patton, and the sort of people they come from, and it isn’t normal...pain is not normal, pain is a sign something is _wrong._ ” 

Logan makes a small hum of agreement, nodding. “I had university-level medical training privately as a teenager, medically speaking these cuts are healing fine, I’d say they’re roughly five to six weeks old, so they’re healing fine on their own, but when you get a cut you need to clean it, no matter what or how big or small, the slightest bit of dirt in a wound can cause an infection.”

“So I suppose all that’s left now is...justice, do you want to report this to the police, Patton?” Virgil asks quietly. “You don’t have to, but if...the person who did this does it again, and it gets any _more_ extreme than that you could really seriously be injured, they could render you physically or mentally disabled for life, or they could kill you.”

“Virgil,” Janus mutters curtly.

“He needs to have all the facts, serial abusers like power, and if they let that power go too far, he could be saying goodbye to the world for good, Janus, there’s no point sugar-coating that, he _needs_ to be safe, and to do that he needs to the tools to build that safety.” There’s a long pause before Virgil continues “...and if this person hurts someone else, another member of the family, he’s going to carry that guilt for the rest of his life, that’s not going to be a nice feeling.”

“Breathe.” Logan instructs firmly “Talking about Patton as though he isn’t right here is counter-productive.” The brunet turns to the other and says seriously “If you wish to report this to the police, I can show you how to do that, I can help you through it, or if you prefer perhaps Roman could.”

“Or all of us,” Janus adds.

“Or none of us.” Virgil clips in at the end “Sometimes going through things like this can be more painful with people there, and it’s okay if you want to do it alone.”

Patton starts crying. He doesn’t mean too, but the suffocating feeling in his chest overwhelms him and he buries his face in his hands, shoulders heaving with deep and hard breaths. His body aches, but not nearly as much as the dry scratching of his heartbeat at that moment. Janus rests a hand on his shoulder and Logan shuffles up closer but does not touch him. Virgil tells him everything is going to be okay, nobody really knows if everything is going to be okay. 

The thing that keeps catching Logan the most, the thing really knocking his head sideways, is that Patton hadn’t known he was being abused. He hadn’t understood that life isn’t supposed to hurt, that love is not made up out of belt buckles, he had resigned himself to the fact his existence was to be hurt and brutally tortured. Then never second-guessed it. He’s known textbooks and had read about parental abuse and suffering and all that it entails, but for some reason the idea that someone can just accept that abuse is how one person is supposed to live is just...he understands why Remus left the room, and why Roman was shaking, and why Virgil looks like the moment he gets out of this room his fist is going to go straight through a wall. He understands, perhaps for the first time in his life, what it’s like to witness real, true, unadulterated pain. 

“Can I think about it?” Patton finally says, still crying and shaking and a little dehydrated. 

“Of course,” Janus gently squeezes his shoulder and withdraws his hand. “Is there anything I can do for you now?”

“Can I just...I’d really like Roman, please, I just really want...a hug.” 

Logan nods and stands, wondering how he’s keeping a straight face as Virgil trails behind him, and Janus waits for Roman to be there before he leaves. 

\--

Remus has his forehead pressed against the wall after he leaves the room, his hands are shaking and he wants so badly to press his knuckles into the walls like they’re made of papier-mâché and his knuckles won’t break. He doesn’t, though, he takes a deep and stuttering breath, tries to forget the way hands felt on his skin and not in the way Logan’s fingertips graze his flesh, but the way people who don’t know how to handle fragile objects _shatter_ them. _**He feels shattered.**_

He’d lost who he is a long time ago, but he’s promised Roman, he’d promised his brother this was a fresh start, a new place. Where razorblades stay in the bathroom, attached to their tool, and not under pillowcases for an idea of a late-night mirage for coping. Where knuckles have no need to be bruised, where anger is not the synonym for happiness, and agony is a memory that cannot be forgotten. Remus does not know who he is, really, without pain; and no amount of love in the world can change that, really. Being loved is nice and comfortable, but it’s like someone has ripped your body open and you’re pretending that a bandaid will fix the damage. His entire life was built on trauma and codependency and anger issues, no amount of love from anyone can undo that, can erase his experiences, or patch up a wound that clearly needs intensive care.

The door opens again, he looks up to see his brother, arms folded tightly across his chest like the pressure will stop the dam from breaking. The ebony-haired man is used to many things, but Roman’s anger is not one of them, he’s shaking...shaking like a volcano about to erupt, or a tornado about to level a town. “What would you do if it was Logan?” The redhead asks, under no assumptions that Remus does not care about the scrawny nerd in the slightest. 

“I think I’d be up for manslaughter.” Roman nods, then buries his face in his hands, and cries. He’s still shaking and Remus cannot tell if his tears are in fury or anguish, but he wraps his arms around the other carefully and lets the only person he’s ever known how to feel emotion for bury his face in his neck and cry. “Did it remind you?” He asks, carefully, because he knows his brother and knows one wrong word will send him into a state of emotionlessness. 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think we should be seeing someone, Ro...like...like a shrink?” Roman pulls away and wipes his eyes. “You can act like you’re alright but the scars are barely healed and you know it, I know mine haven’t.” 

“You had it worse though.”

“Ah shut up,” The dark-haired twin shakes his head with a scoff “Neither of us had it worse, we both suffered, we were both in pain.” His hand absent-mindedly traces scars that are no longer there, drifting against his forearm, he pulls away from the hug. “This isn’t a competition, Roman, there’s no prize for the most fucked up, there’s just this.” He gestures to the other’s tear-streaked face with a shake of his head. “There’s just a lot of fucking agony and feeling like you’re fucking crazy, and if that’s the prize then it’s a fucking shit one.” He clenches his fist, ignores the urge to put it through the wall. “But you’re no more alright than I am, and you know it, just because it’s not violent Roman that doesn’t mean you’re coping.” Remus rests his hand on his brother’s arm “You can’t go spending your energy protecting someone when you don’t know how to take care of yourself, take it from me.” 

“You look after Logan,” Roman takes a deep breath to calm his tears, his hands shaking just a little bit, his whole body is trembling really, every fibre of his being quaking in ways he didn’t think he’d ever have to experience again. He should’ve known better really, that just because the little things set him off that he’d not quite healed from his family dynamic. If a family is really what their house could’ve been called. 

“I don’t, Logan is very much in tune with his own wants and needs, Logan is not scared or frightened of himself or people around him, Logan is basically a full-grown man a little late to the hormones party, Patton is a slowly ticking time bomb and when he explodes it’s going to be all over you Roman, and you can’t handle that kind of rejection twice.” He sighs “I’m not saying don’t help him, of course I wouldn’t fucking suggest that, he needs help and he’s going to get it from everyone here whether we know the kid or not there’s not a single person in this flat that doesn’t know what abuse feels like in one way or another, but you need to have a good long think before you make him your pet project because you’re a mess all dressed up in eyeliner and glitter; you can fool him into thinking you’ve got your shit together but he’s not the one that knows you Roman, you’re my brother; I was the one hearing you scream in the middle of the night for years, I was the one who had to clean up cuts and bruises on your face our entire lives, and I know that being with him is going to end in tears, I mean you can’t even stand the sight of his bruises without having a panic attack how the _fuck_ do you think that’s going to make _him_ feel?” 

Roman opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again. He wishes life was a fairytale, that love could really conquer all ails, but in truth, all that really fixes you is medicine, a doctor and a cup of tea. All of which he could do with right now. 

There’s a knock at the door, and Logan is leaning precariously against the frame, propping the door ajar awkwardly with his foot. “Patton would like to see you, Roman.” The redhead takes a deep breath and ducks into the ensuite bathroom for a second, checking his face, making sure there’s no sign of his tears; his entire life had been that really. 

He brushes past Logan, who looks a little unnerved by his ability to switch between emotions like it’s nothing, and disappears off into the kitchen. The brunet looks over at his partner, who is chewing the inside of his mouth; they both feel a little exhausted, neither of them really know what to do or say or how even to progress after a realisation like that. 

_How bad must those bruises have been that weeks later they still haven’t healed?_

Logan lets the door close behind him, standing in front of Remus with a cautious look in his eyes. He knows the other has an explosive temper, and he doesn’t know if he’s short-sighted by not finding any fear in himself as he stands in front of Remus. “I’m supposing this opened some wounds for the two of you.” 

“I don’t think they ever really closed.” The taller man utters absently, his eyes a little glassy as he looks at Logan but doesn’t really see him, not for a moment, until a gentle hand rests on his arm and an overwhelming influx of serotonin rushes to his brain. For a second, just a second, he almost feels safe, and wraps his arms around the other man’s waist, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. A stillness passes over him, and he doesn’t find himself angry just for a moment, just for a mere minute he can focus on Logan’s weight against him and the steady beat of their hearts, for just those few passing seconds he almost feels like a normal person. 

But those are only fleeting seconds, they’re not a fix or a permanent comfort. He has to pull away at some point. That’s okay too though, to be angry is to be human, to feel things when confronted with life’s horrors is the most genuine state a person can exist in, Logan smiles at him, and Remus is still angry, still scared, still playing memories in his head from years ago, but he doesn’t feel judged. He feels understood. 

“I think maybe you need therapy.” Remus snorts and nods, this time with a tinge of sarcastic humour but that is better than no humour at all. “I can help you, you know, I want to help you.” 

Those words, the words “I want to help you” those are the first time Remus has ever heard those words said to him. He feels the cracks open and he presses a hand over his mouth to stifle the gut-wrenching sob that pulls past his lips with all the force of a thunderstorm. Logan wraps his arms around him again and lets him cry. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” For the first time, Remus almost _believes_ that, too. 

\--

Janus stands up and leaves once Roman enters, giving him a careful look on the way past. Patton looks very small on the couch, his eyes distant as he looks up at Roman. “Hi,” he says, like his throat isn’t dry and he hasn’t been crying a thunderstorm for fifteen minutes. Roman smiles and sits down next to him. “Can I have a hug?” 

Patton finds his head feels safer resting on Roman’s chest, tucked up against him like a small and frightened animal as he rests his feet over the taller’s lap, curling up into him. Roman holds him, not too tight, but enough that it feels like he doesn’t ever want to let go. “We’re all going to help you, Pat,” the nickname slips out so easily, he doesn’t mean for it too, but Patton likes it...it feels like a name that isn’t drenched in blood. 

“Roman I…” He wipes his eyes “how do you get rid of the feeling that it’s your fault?” 

“You go to therapy, and they teach you how to cope,” Roman nuzzles against the blond’s hair sweetly, taking a deep breath “...and then you realise that it can never have been your fault, because nothing you could do would ever make that okay.” Patton hums quietly, closing his eyes, he feels exhausted, and his hunger has easily subsided in his panic and upset. Roman is so warm, and he can feel his heartbeat as he closes his eyes. “Are you tired? You should get some rest, Pat.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” The blond opens his tired eyes slowly, looking up at his friend, “but I don't know how to ask either.” Roman is too exhausted to think about the implications, so he just nods. 

“I’ll stay with you, I think we both need a nap.” His smile is reassuring, and Patton does not have it in him to feel guilty as he stands up and trails back to his room, his hand clutching Roman’s sleeve like a lost puppy.


	5. Week Five: Neptune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan employs the help of a friend to give Roman, Remus and Patton a helping hand.

Another week passes and routine is not really routine anymore for anyone living in that flat; nobody really knows what to do or say, or how to progress with day to day life after the realisation that one of their flatmates has been hurt continuously for his entire life. They try not to make their worry too obvious, they try not to be overbearing. It’s not really something you can ignore though is it? There’s no perfect balance between care and indifference, but Patton knows that they’re being kinder to him because they understand something that had taken him many years to know. 

Where he’s from, scars are a part of life; he has hundreds on his back, his mother has bruises on her arms, his best friend from school came in with a black eye and the teachers never called the police. Bruises, blood, long red lines that cut through every layer of skin...that is normal where he grew up. In a way, he’s glad he knows now that it’s not normal and that it’s not okay; he’d always thought himself as wrong for feeling like pain should not be synonymous with love. That there must be something not right about this situation because he couldn’t imagine laying a hand on another person and it feeling right, feeling just, or as though it were god’s will. 

A religion built out of “love thy neighbour” and supporting the weakest and most oppressed of your society, twisted into this. He hates how he doubts his love of God because of his father’s treatment of him, that all the times he’d prayed for the last kick to be the last were either never received or never cared for. 

If every abused soul could be saved, would _he_ save them? 

Or does he just not care? 

Patton doesn’t know the answer to these questions, but he does know that as he struggles with the steps he has to take from here, he decides to pray. The answers don’t come in the form of a flame or a ghost, or a whispered voice in his ear. But as he talks and talks and talks, his voice cracking and his pain poured from his lips, he gets his answer, he understands what he has to do. If not for himself, then for his mother. And for every abused child that lived and breathed in that _**rotting**_ town. 

Logan goes with him to the police station, they hadn’t talked a lot before, but he’s quiet and calm and he doesn’t cry even when he looks upset. It’s the sort of grounded expression that Patton needs as he answers questions and people take pictures of his bruises and scars, and he explains what the town is like. The people that live there, he talks about his mother too, how she always had bruises on her wrists. 

Logan sits with him through all this, nods encouragingly and gives him a tight smile that could have a tint of awe if the other man would let his expressions be any less guarded. By the end of it, Patton is physically shaking and looking exhausted, he walks out with Logan, half tripping over his own feet. “Tell me I’m going to be okay,” He whispers. “Tell me it was _worth it_.”

“I don’t know,” Logan replies truthfully “But you’ll always have us defending you, and even if this corrupt system doesn’t give him the justice he deserves, and all the other people involved in child abuse, you will never once have to see him again Patton.” 

“My mother?”

“Isn’t your responsibility.” The clipped tone startles Patton a little, tears swimming in his eyes. “Don’t misunderstand me, Patton, of course, you love and care for her, but it’s unfair to bear the weight that is his responsibility to feel guilty for, you can’t save people, you have to understand this, you’re one person with a whole future ahead of you and you cannot be responsible for something that is entirely not your fault. That isn’t fair on you.” 

He’s right, but it still hurts. He wonders if Logan has ever had to make a difficult decision before because he talks like he’s only just learned what love is and speaks like pain is so far removed from his life that he just cannot compute it at all.

The comfort slips, now Patton just feels alone. 

When they get back to the flat, Patton is so tired of being perceived that he walks straight into the room and locks the door behind him wordlessly. He’s exhausted, he’s tired, he doesn’t want to look at himself, he doesn’t want to know himself. He buries himself under his covers and sleeps. 

Over the next 24 hours absolutely everyone knocks on Patton’s door at least once, but he still doesn’t wake up. Roman starts pacing holes into the floor and he’s visibly shaking. “He probably just needs some rest, Ro,” Remus tries to calm his brother, but the quiet sort of hurricane that he’s only used to seeing in himself is brewing in the redhead slowly and painfully. He doesn’t want to admit that it scares him, to see Roman like that, shaking and angry and scared...these are not emotions he’s used to seeing in the other man, these are not traits he is used to witnessing, only experiencing. 

Suddenly he almost feels bad for the many years that Roman has had to keep the calm for the both of them. 

But it does make him wonder why now. Five weeks of knowing one boy and Roman is so protective that he’s going to stress starve himself into a heart attack? No, that doesn’t sound right or _normal_ , what was it about this situation that has Roman worked up? He’s a romantic sure, but out of the two of them, the one that actually believes in ‘love at first sight’ is not Roman. 

Even if Remus’ view of love is skewered and distorted beyond human recognition into something volatile and painful and...whatever it is that he has with Logan. It comes as a realisation that Roman perhaps does not believe in love at all, he rarely tells Remus he loves him, he’s never held down a relationship because he gets bored and distracted, but it’s neither here nor there whether Roman _loves_ Patton, or anyone at all, because he does _care_ about him. 

And maybe seeing scars on someone you care about the moment you thought you were finally free from that sort of life, has an effect that not even the individual experiencing it can aptly explain. Pain has chased the two of them like a perpetual haunting for many years now, this was the first time that their lives were stable, that they were ready to go on and move forward. 

Patton has accidentally drop kicked Roman back into his trauma. 

Now there are two problems, two people who need a lot of help; well, three including Remus, but Remus _knows_ that, he’s been aware of the fact that people are not supposed to exist in a feeling of anger every day of their lives. He’d go to therapy if he could afford too. Roman exists in a state of “I’m fine, everything’s fine, look, I’m smiling see? I’m fine!” and Patton didn’t realise abuse wasn’t normal until a week ago. 

Not only that, but Patton actually expressed that it wasn’t that bad, which means that those scars were a pinprick compared to the things he’s experienced. 

None of them can afford therapy, Roman and Remus spent years of savings to go to college, and have jobs that just about keep them afloat. Patton is...nobody really knows Patton’s financial situation except for the fact all of his socks have holes in them and a lot of his clothes don’t really fit him. 

Logan finally gets Roman to stop pacing holes in the carpet, and Remus shoves a cup of camomile tea in his brother’s hands and tells him to stop thinking so hard. The redhead’s shoulders slump, he looks exhausted as he sips the hot tea. “It’s entirely possible that the situation has triggered a trauma response,” Logan supplies helpfully, to which Roman glares a hole right through him. “Whether you like to hear the truth or not Roman, you do need therapy,” 

“Thank you for your insights, I can’t afford therapy, or a doctor’s appointment, or medication,” He places the cup of tea down on the table “I know this might be difficult for you to wrap your mind around Logan because you have the emotional weight of a teaspoon, but just because you have the logic and the facts, that doesn’t actually solve the fucking problem. I can’t go to therapy, I can’t afford therapy, first of all, and second of all, I don’t _want_ to go to therapy.” He waves his hands around as he speaks, looking frustrated and...angry. “You have had your entire life handed to you on a silver platter Logan, don’t you dare start telling me about difficult decisions.” 

Logan does not speak again for a moment, Remus looks down at his hands and then sighs. Roman is not wrong, but his attitude isn’t right, either way if he opens his mouth he’s getting shot by one or more of them.

“What if I could find you a cheaper alternative? A free alternative, it won’t be perfect but...I might be able to help,” Remus realises with that sentence, that Logan is not doing this because he has too, not because the only way he knows how to show affection is through money and gifts, but because he too, cares. Roman bites his lip in the silence, and shrugs. 

“Fine, whatever,” The door closes behind him and Remus goes to apologise on behalf of his brother, because he feels like he needs to; he doesn’t think he’s ever really apologized to anyone in his life, but his eyes find Logan’s and the words are on his lips. His partner holds up a hand and shakes his head. 

“He’s upset, he’s dealing with a lot, I understand, I know that it’s no excuse but he is processing some very hard emotions and memories right now Remus, and we’re both going to have to prepare for the fact that he’s going to lose his temper every now and then.” 

He’s not used to Roman losing his temper. He’s not sure if it’s better or worse than his fake laughter. 

\--

Logan talks to Patton too, who wholeheartedly accepts the idea of therapy; it surprised him really, he’d assumed he’d have some predispositions to the idea of talking about his emotions. Patton admits he does, but he managed to go years without realising he was abused, he’d like to not have to go the rest of his life processing that. 

By Friday, they meet Emile. Emile is a psychology student who graduated high school a year early, he smells like raspberries and is holding a cup of iced coffee that doesn’t really suit his aesthetic, like it’d been thrust into his hands on the way out of the door and he’d begrudgingly accepted it. 

He sits on the couch with his notepad and pens, and smiles at Roman and Remus, whilst Patton sits cross-legged on the floor nervously picking at a plate of fries. “Well this is the most informal therapy session I’ve ever given,” he says, like there’s a bounce in his step everywhere he walks.

Emile explains that he’s not a licensed counselor and that he’s training to be one, but he hopes that he can help until they’re able to attend an actual therapy appointment. He gives them all some forms, asks them if they’d like to be seen individually or together and talks a little about what trauma therapy entails. 

Remus looks like he really wants to run away, Roman is having a hard time not staring at the way Emile’s lips move, and Patton is trying his very hardest not to pass out as he shovels more chips down his throat. 

But all in all, it goes well. 

Logan sits down on the couch opposite Emile as the others go back to their rooms (Patton still cradling his plate of fries). “You know I can’t tell you so don’t ask,” Emile chuckles before Logan has even managed to speak. 

“It was worth the attempt, can’t blame me for being nosy on my friend’s assessments,” Logan chuckles, putting his feet up on the couch. “How’s Remy?” 

“Still forcing coffee down my gullet, I’d ask how Remus is doing but...” He waves the test sheet up “...I guess we both know the answer to that question,” Logan picks up the untouched ice coffee and drinks it slowly, putting his feet up on the couch. “You know I can give you some therapy too, Logan, you don’t have to be intensely struggling to attend, and it’s not like I’m charging you.”

“I can manage alone,” the brunet shrugs a little “...and I’m not just saying that either, most of my problems are not ones that are alien or foreign, or even rooted in trauma, just my own ignorance, besides... I work better alone.” 

“Haven’t you always?” Emile smiles the way an old friend smiles at Logan, tucking a piece of his dirty blonde hair behind his ear as he slides the papers into a folder and then into his bag. “Have you missed me?”

“You? Certainly, your chaotic boyfriend? Hardly,” He laughs as he speaks, so they both know he is joking. “It was quite the surprise to find out I followed you here, I hadn’t expected to hear from you since we fell out of touch, but I’ll admit finding out you two were dating did not surprise me half as much as it should’ve.” 

“You know the sort of upbringing we had Logan, that sort of stuff just wasn’t talked about, so we didn’t tell anyone, then I moved here and Remy of course followed and well, there’s really no point in hiding it anymore.” 

“Have you told your parents?”

“Heaven’s no, for some reason they still think they’re getting grandchildren out of me,” Emile sighs, the smile sliding off his lips. “Honestly, I don’t understand why I haven’t told them, my parents are not homophobic, I know that for sure, but there’s just an ever-increasing fear that they’ll be homophobic for me, or to me, or they won’t like Remy.”

“I understand,” he does. 

“Speaking of that little demon, I should probably get back to him, he’s trying to cook dinner,” Logan winces on his friend’s behalf. “Oh and Logan? Therapy or not, try not to wait another two years before running into me, please try and stay communicative.” 

“I’m not the same person I was two weeks ago, or five weeks ago for that matter.” he sighs “We should get coffee sometime, bring your pet demon if you so desire but I have to spend two hours watching Remy and Remus flirt I’m blaming you.”

“Oh please, you’d love it,” Emile chuckles, standing up with his bag hanging off his shoulder. Logan cracks a smile, he thinks he would find that amusing in some fashion. “I’ll let him know you enjoyed the coffee,” Logan nods as the blonde wanders towards the kitchen door, Logan stands to show him out but Emile shakes his head “You sit down and catch some rest, you look exhausted, text me about that coffee date!” 

The brunet watches his old friend go, and finds he can’t quite stop his heart beating so fast as the other leaves, a certain thrill in him that he can’t escape. He wonders absently when Emile had gotten quite so _pretty_.


	6. Week 6: Slow Dancing in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil reckons the best way to cheer anyone up is to go to a club.

The trip had, surprisingly not been Remus’ idea, but Virgil had banged at all their doors after two weeks of everyone soaking up their own misery and declared, _loudly_ , that they were all going to be going out tonight. “You don’t have to drink alcohol,” he’d declared emphatically to the people poking their head around the door to see what the commotion is about “But you do have to have fun!” **  
**

Roman and Remus had, _obviously_ , no qualms with this plan; Remus is, after all, twenty different shades of self-destructive, and Roman loves an excuse to dance. It’d been a while since any of them had been out of the house for anything but work and class. Patton had shuffled awkwardly from one foot to another and Virgil had sighed. “Yes, you too Pat, you need to experience some life, and if you don’t like it then you don’t like it! But at least you got to try it, right?” The blond had sighed, nodded and smiled tightly. 

Around 8 in the evening Remus and Roman had knocked on Logan and Patton’s door respectively. Logan told the other to come in, whilst he stares in contempt at his wardrobe, analysing if any of his clothes would be suitable for wherever it is they’re going. When his friend, or partner, or whatever they had yet to decide they were, wanders into the room and quirks an eyebrow at him with amusement written all over his face, he sighs and admits defeat. “I have no idea what to wear.” 

“Come on,” Remus grabs his hand and drags him to his own room. 

That is, by the way, how Logan ended up wearing leather pants and shuffling shyly from one foot to another as he looked up at the dark-haired man. He definitely blushed. Remus stared at him in a way that is no short of hungry. “Do you think we have time to…”

“Not even _remotely_ ,” Logan had muttered back, pulling at the fabric of the blue shirt he was wearing, it was such a floaty material and he almost didn’t feel like himself at all. “Your libido can wait,” _still,_ he leaned up to kiss Remus gently because he didn’t want the other to feel rejected by any means. 

Across the hallway, Patton had been in a similar predicament; what do people wear to get drunk? Is there any point in dressing up for the occasion? Then the knock at his door had him warily giving the person on the other side permission to enter. Roman wandered into his room wearing ripped skinny jeans and a deep red shirt; his face shining with makeup and glitter and Patton felt his heart stop as he stared at the other man with awe and wonder. He has so much creative talent, and he looked _amazing_. 

“Struggling to pick an outfit?” Roman smiles sympathetically, wandering over to Patton’s wardrobe, most of his clothes are very baggy and clothes that he’d owned for years, giving Roman the impression that he’d been gradually losing weight over the past few years. A lot of these clothes would not have been picked for someone who could fit into them twice over. 

“A little bit,” 

Roman shuffles through the wardrobe with a hum and pulls a nice blue shirt out off a hanger, “I have some pants that would go nice with this, they don’t fit me anymore so if you want them you can keep them.” Patton slid off the bed as the other man gestured for him to follow, he gets handed a pair of white ripped jeans and ushered into Roman’s bathroom, where he changes. The jeans are a little baggy on himself, so he asks if the other man has a belt. 

“Uh...well,” Roman had stammered, before grinning “Sort of, I don’t have any normal belts but…” He grabs about five out of his wardrobe and dumps them on the bed, all of them customized but the blue-eyed man can’t tell if it was by Roman or not, they look so well done. And yet he feels like he could never pull off any of them. Patton sighs a little and looks up at the redhead for some guidance, he catches a sparkle of glee in the other man’s eyes, almost excited to be coordinating his outfit. “Here,” Roman picks up a belt that has little metal heart studs on either side of the buckle, it’s not too extravagant “...pull your pants up over your hips a little,” Patton does as his told, holding breath as the other slides the belt through the little loops on his jeans. His fingertips brush against Patton’s stomach as he fastens it, and the other man has to briefly question whether these pants _are_ too tight after all.

Still, he breathes and collects his thoughts, trying to calm the way his heart is racing. If Roman notices he doesn’t say anything. “Want any makeup? I don’t think we have much time but a little bit of glitter…”  
“Yes,” Patton mutters, but he’s not sure if he’s saying yes because he likes glitter or Roman in close proximity of himself. Either way, the taller beams at him and grabs a little jar of makeup glitter. He wets the small eyeshadow brush with a little bit of water, and tells Patton to close his eyes, in two sweeping motions he had a little wing of gold glitter over his eyelids. The blond can feel so much awe in his chest as, with another brush, Roman dusts glitter over his cheekbones with a look of fierce concentration on his face. 

He thinks about Roman, what he’s heard of his childhood and the things he must have endured to even remotely be proud of these simple little acts of rebellion; makeup, skinny jeans, women’s shirts. And Patton is utterly in _awe_ of him.

The overwhelming urge to kiss someone is not one Patton had experienced often in his life, but Roman is so close to his face, his expression nothing short of adorable. Still, he resists, not particularly because he wants too, but because he doesn’t know how to get rid of the blockade that screams ‘ _wrong, no, **bad**_ ,’ in a tone that sounds very much like his own father. “Alright, and you’re ready to go!” 

They both make it out of the room about the same time as Logan and Remus, Patton stares at Logan’s legs for longer than necessary. Roman, however, coos “Awh, you’re wearing his clothes! You’re matching, that’s gay,” Logan had offered a mildly unimpressed expression whilst Remus grinned a little maniacally. 

Virgil and Janus leave Janus’ room, Virgil is wearing a mesh shirt and there’s a litter of love bites over his collar bones that make Patton think of all the times he’s heard the two of them...having _fun_ , together. 

They’re actually _all_ going to give him a heart attack tonight. Or his hormones will, whichever comes first. 

If there’s one doubt he no longer has, it’s that he’s not gay. He’s definitely gay, and he should be panicking about that, yet he’s a little distracted at the moment. It’s just now Logan’s walking in front of him and holy _shit_ who decided to put him in leather? The answer is, of course, Remus, because if there’s one thing he likes more about having a regular partner, it’s having one in leather. It feels a little disrespectful to stare, so Patton averts his gaze to the floor under his feet.

Roman sighs a little beside him, and Patton looks up at the other as they wander down the stairs and out of the university. “I didn’t realise Logan is hot and now it’s too late,” the redhead jokes lightly. It _is_ a joke, not that Logan isn’t hot but not exactly Roman’s type, and if he asked he’s fairly certain Remus wouldn’t have a problem with him ‘borrowing’ his partner, he’s _less_ sure Logan would say yes, however. 

“He is pretty,” Patton replied absently, a light sigh on his lips. 

He loses track of all the streets they walk down until they’re stood on a street that is very loud in the heart of the city. Clubs thrum with music and there’s the sound of cheerful shouting that makes Patton feel a little anxious, but he shoulders it and takes a deep breath, following after Virgil down some steps to a bouncer where they all show their IDs. 

The inside is even louder, and Patton feels a little uncomfortable, so he seats himself at the bar and shakes his head when he’s offered to dance. Roman offers to stay with him, but if he has to be honest with himself just for one night, it’s that he really just wants to watch Roman dance. So he shoos him away.

About half an hour later, Roman is definitely drunk, but he’s not the sort of drunk that it really shows. He’s happy and smiling and lighting up underneath the greens and blues and reds of the club lights, the glitter on his face catching against the flashes. Patton is sat down at the bar, sipping cola with his feet dangling over the stool, just watching Roman and how in his own zone he is. A few different men had tried to dance with him, but he doesn’t seem to have an appeal in that tonight, he just wants to be _happy_. 

Patton can understand that feeling. He wonders if it’s the alcohol or the music, or how generally unaware of the rest of the world the other man currently is. Should he dance? Would it make him happy? Should he drink? Would _that_ make him happy? He eyes the drinks at the bar cautiously, he doesn’t know what half of this stuff is. “First time at a club?” A voice calls out to him, a stranger, the blond looks up to the source of the voice, a young man with dark, short hair, and dark brown eyes. 

“Uh...yeah,” Patton replied, his cheeks red in the dark of the club. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” The small man shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, stammering a little as he looks at all the alcohol. “Ah, first-time drinker too?” The blond nods, squirming in his seat at the intensity of the other’s expression, like he’s seeing straight through him. The bartender eyes the two of them out of the corner of his eyes, before approaching as he’s waved over. “You have got to try this, it’s delicious,” the stranger tells Patton before he turns to the bartender “Can we both get a Galactica please?” 

The bartender meets Patton’s eyes, he swallows nervously, before nodding. Two minutes later he had a tall, almost neon drink in his hands. It smells like fruit and stares at it for a long time before leaning over to the straw and sipping it. 

It really does taste nice, he had always assumed alcohol tastes as it smells, but this tastes like raspberries and strawberries and there’s a little hint of something cool, like the kid’s drinks you would get as a child that are full of sugar. Patton drinks some more, slurping through the straw until half the drink is gone. “Better?” the stranger asks, Patton isn’t sure. There’s a pang of hollow guilt in the pit of his stomach, but he isn’t quite feeling the alcohol yet. 

_Until_ he is. It starts at the back of his neck, and his shoulders, a sort of weight that felt like heavy butterflies. He also feels a little dizzy too. He looks over at Roman again, and then back at the stranger. “I...uh…” 

“Hey it’s alright, just loosen up, let the alcohol do its magic, come on, let’s dance,”

“I haven’t finished my…”

“It’s alright,” The tone seems snappier, and Patton feels out of his depth, but he takes the hand that is offered to him. He doesn’t really know how to dance and he doesn’t really _want_ to dance he wants...he wants _Roman_. But he’s being dragged by his hand into the dancers and then there’s a hand on his hips and he’s far too close to someone he doesn’t even know the name of. He can feel panic rise up his throat, a claustrophobia like nothing he had ever felt making his stomach turn.

“Hey!” there’s a short, clipped tone and a hand rests on Patton that he knows, that he registers as _safe_. “Mind keeping your hands off of him? He’s clearly fucking uncomfortable,” Patton feels himself become untangled from the strange man, his eyes half-open as he registers red hair and soft hands and...he buries his face in Roman’s chest. 

“Hey man, I didn’t know he was taken, go easy,” 

“That’s not the point,” Roman doesn’t have time for an argument however, so he just shakes his head and guides Patton out of the crowds back to the bar. “Just some water please,” The bartender nods, and grabs a bottle of water and some ice, pouring both into the glass and sliding it over to them both. 

“Is he alright?”

“Just not used to...how much did he drink?” 

“Half a cocktail, take him out back to the smoking shelter, he needs some fresh air, just bring the glass back.” Roman nods and guides Patton towards the smoking shelter, it’s a little fenced out place outside in the cool air, there’s only a couple of smokers there and they each give the two a sympathetic smile. He sits the blond down and kneels in front of him, telling him he needs to drink water, Patton drinks, slowly. He’s shaking a little bit. 

“If you wanted to drink, you should’ve told me,” Roman mutters “I would’ve ordered you a shandy or something, cocktails are made with a lot of alcohol, and you have about as much meat on your bones as a pin needle.” There’s a tinge of humour to his voice “That bastard knew that that’s why he got you to drink it.” 

“I didn’t...I didn’t _want_ to drink, I just felt uncomfortable.” 

“General rule of thumb, if a strange man walks up to you and offers to buy you a drink, order something without any alcohol, he just wants you intoxicated.” Patton’s eyes went a little wide, and he swallows. 

“What like…?”

“Yeah,” Roman squeezes his hand gently “but you’re okay, when I saw you weren’t at the bar I thought maybe Janus and V had taken you outside for a little bit, but I was getting anxious so I looked around a little, you looked like you were about to pass out when I got to you, but I get the feeling that wasn’t because of the alcohol.” 

“No, well, I mean my entire brain feels like it’s spinning but I felt like I couldn’t breathe and he wouldn’t stop grabbing me and it just…” Patton shudders and sighs, drinking more of the water “Sorry, I probably ruined your night,” 

“I’d rather be sat out here talking to you than in there with a fuck ton of people I don’t know.” Roman moves off from the floor now that the other has regained some of his calm, sitting beside him instead. Patton leans his head on Roman’s shoulder, breathing calmly in the still air. He loves how Roman smells, always like fruits or flowers, or something that should be fancier than it is; he smells like alcohol and sweat too right now, but none of these things deters Patton like they usually do. “Are you okay?” The redhead asks, turning his head a little to look at the other, Patton leans up and smiles. 

“Been better, been worse,” Roman grins a little. He looks so pretty, glittering in the evening sky and the lights of the smoking area. He looks calm, all that adrenaline subsiding for the sake of some peace and quiet (or as quiet as it can get with the club music pouring into the outside world. For the second time that day he wants to kiss Roman, but not sweetly, he wants to kiss him until his lips turn blue from lack of oxygen. He leans in quickly, just wanting a taste, but Roman leans back, a gentle hand on his chest as the redhead shakes his head. His heart sinks in his chest and maybe the rejection shows on his face, but the other man only smiles kindly at him. 

“If you still want to kiss me in the morning, then come and kiss me, but you’re drunk and a little scared right now, and I’m not going to take advantage of that.” Patton just wants to kiss him _more_ when he says that, but he understands even if he knows that come morning he won’t be brave enough to do it. This is his _only_ chance. But Roman is right, he can’t use alcohol and adrenaline as fuel for an existing problem that certainly won’t go away just like that. Otherwise, he’d spend the rest of his life getting drunk to kiss someone he loves. 

At least he knows he’s not mean after a drink, he’d rather be scared than angry, rather be shaking than hurting someone, there’s one solace in all of this. 

Janus and Virgil (apparently constantly joined at the hip), enter into the smoking shelter. Virgil’s a little tipsy at best, whilst Janus doesn’t even look like he knows what drunk looks like, pushing a cigarette between his lips. “Is he alright?” The blond asks, bringing a lighter to the cigarette in his lips. 

“Better without you breathing cancer at him.” Roman replies with a snarky tone. 

“Can I try it?” Patton asks quietly “Might as well get all my sins out in one night.” Virgil laughs and collapses next to him. 

“You’ll hate it,” The purple-haired man warns him, lighting his own cigarette and taking a drag before handing it to Patton. The blond holds it between his fingertips awkwardly “Breathe slowly,” He breathes in slowly, but it’s caught off with a cough. Patton spits on the floor after a few minutes of trying to breathe again. “Told you,” Virgil snorts, taking the cigarette back gently, Roman hands Patton his water with a shake of his head. “Feel like smoking again?” 

“No thank you,” Patton goes back to leaning his head on Roman’s shoulder, but now with a slight pout. “How do you even smoke those?” 

“With depression,” Janus replies “And unhealthy coping mechanisms.” The man leans back on the bench, watching smoke blow around them, Patton tilts his head where it rests on Roman’s shoulder to stare at the wisps as they blow with the still wind. “So what happened? Did you drink?” 

“Yeah I did, I don’t think it’s for me,” he sighs “maybe one day I’ll try again, but that was not...nice,” 

“Some guy forced an actual cocktail down his throat,” Roman uttered bitterly, extending his arm around Patton to take a cigarette from Virgil, he keeps his arm around Patton’s shoulder after he’s taken the cigarette, lighting it with his free hand and passing the lighter between hands to pass to Virgil. “Asshole,” 

“Shit man, you have the BMI of a toddler you shouldn’t be drinking like, gin and vodka, you start with a fuckin’ beer and some lemonade.” Patton snorts a little in response and shrugs sheepishly. “We really should’ve given him more time to prepare for this.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t think,” Virgil sighs. “But hey, are you enjoying yourself now?” Patton smiles and leans up off of Roman before nodding, the arm around his shoulder feels protective, like a little baby bird under a strong wing. “It’s nicer out here, I think, quieter, makes the banging in my head chill out, plus you can smoke outside.” 

“We should start heading back soon, before Patton passes out...hey has anyone seen Remus and Logan?” 

“They went to the bathroom about half an hour ago.” Virgil hums in reply to his boyfriend, smoke pouring as he speaks. 

“Ah okay, so they should be out here in about five minutes, Remus will want a cigarette, he’s drunk and he’s just…” Roman coughs a little, quirking his eyebrow at Janus as Patton stares up at him with confusion. “What?” 

“Why would he take half an hour in the bathroom?” The curly-haired man asks. 

“They went together,” Janus replies, at the same time Virgil replies with:   
“He’s getting his dick sucked.” 

Roman groans and shakes his head “Don’t want to think about it!” Patton feels like he should’ve reached that conclusion himself, but he’s too tired to care as he rests his head back on Roman’s shoulder; he’s still not recovered from walking in on Remus and Logan that day. The way Logan’s head was tilted back, the sounds he made, the look on Remus’ face and the flushed red on their skin. Patton remembers how warm he’d felt watching them, the twist in his gut that was reappearing just thinking about it. 

Virgil and Roman were bickering but he wasn’t really listening, his mind had trailed off in thought, not about Logan and Remus or that strange warmth that thinking about that day gives him, but about Roman. Or specifically himself and Roman, the thought shocked him at first as that familiar guilt crawled through him but he pushed past it, the wish to think about something whilst he was numb enough to consider it. 

That is cut short by the loud announcement of a far too cheerful Remus, and Logan who trails behind him looking uncharacteristically dishevelled. Patton can’t help but laugh shortly at the other’s expression, and Logan cracks a smile when he laughs despite himself. “Awh Re, did you not let him…?” 

“Virgil, again, _my brother!”_ Roman’s voice is exasperated and the two start their back and forth again, and Patton laughs, he brings a hand to his mouth to try and stifle the giggles, but once he starts he can’t stop, to a point where he doesn’t even remember why he was laughing. Remus grins in response to the laughter, wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Logan’s grumpy because the alcohol has worn off and it’s past his bedtime,” the man in question nods with an expression that says that was an apt conclusion on his face, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, let’s get the drunk church boy home,” 

Patton hiccups and nods, he holds Roman’s hand so he doesn’t get lost in the crowds of the club, but finds he doesn’t want to let go once they’re back out into the cool air, so he doesn’t. Roman does not mind. 

When they get back home Virgil kicks open his own door and drags Janus with him, so Patton knows he’s going to have trouble sleeping at least an hour. Remus kisses Logan much softer than he’d expected to witness between the two of them before they say goodnight. “I don’t know how I’m getting out of these pants,” Logan muttered “But if I ask Remus for help I won’t be sleeping at all, so I’ll suffer for that,” 

Patton smiles and leans against the wall with a nod, watching the other disappear into his room. Roman leans against the wall next to his room door, eyebrows raised, “are you okay?” he asks, Patton nods to say he is before he sighs. 

“Yeah, I’m sleepy,” He rubs his eyes and yawns. “Good night Roman,”

“Good night Pat,” the nickname makes his heart feel warm, as he pushes open his bedroom door with a smile on his lips, all but ready to pass out for the night. 


	7. Week 7: 12345SEX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I know youse missed the smut and I had a plot point that wasn't enough on it's own.

_**Interlude A** _ **  
**

Logan feels like he could drown in Remus’ hands sometimes. There’s just something so soothing about working up frustration and then this man puts his hands on him and all of that seems to melt away. Remus is not a calm man, in fact, there is no-one in his life that has ever been more of a hurricane happening in slow motion, but there are times when the franticness of that fast-paced brain can be a little quieter.

Logan understands this too, having a brain that works too fast, that thinks too _much;_ he understands the solace of a kiss. The way everything freezes when there’s a warm body pressed to his own, between the two of them they might form some sort of horrible co-dependency that leaks into an addiction but if it’s the only coping mechanism Remus gets where he actually manages to look after himself, Logan is more than happy to provide. 

“You talk too much,” The brunet mutters against the taller’s lips, holding his wrists underneath the weight of his body as Remus’ knees press to his partner’s sides. 

“Then shut me up.” So Logan does, he sinks his teeth into the other man’s lip and rocks their hips together to a frustratingly slow movement, but every pressure from their bodies is drenched in euphoria nonetheless. 

He’s getting the hang of the motions, his nails dragging down Remus’ wrists, decorating healed scars with his own marks, pulling clothing off of each other’s bodies in a practised series of movements. The first time this had happened he’d been flustered, but over the past few weeks, he’s become so acquainted with Remus’ body and in that way he knows that it barely feels new at all. 

“I want you to fuck me,” the words are so simple but Logan pauses on sliding Remus’ jeans down his legs to look up at him in surprise. “Please.” The other man swallows dryly and leans up to kiss him firmly as if the prospect of letting go of him was terrifying and he needed to taste him on his tongue there and then. 

“You’re going to have to walk me through it.”

“I figured as much.” For once he looks just as nervous too, despite the crude way he’d asked there’s something in his expression that feels too open just for letting the question out. Logan isn’t sure if he’s reading into things as he finishes undressing them both; their clothes just decorate the floor without ceremony, and they’re both having trouble parting their lips long enough to actually progress. 

Remus slides a pillow under his hips and reaches into the bedside cabinet to pull out some lube. “You need quite a bit of it…” He mutters, Logan holds out his hand and some drips from his fingers onto Remus’ stomach, who laughs quietly at the feeling through a slight grimace. “One finger at a time, just slowly at first…” he can tell by the other’s expression that he’s worried “...Relax, you’re not going to hurt me, I promise I’ve done this enough times by now.” 

Logan feels like he shouldn’t be the one taking a deep breath as he slowly pushes his finger into Remus, he also feels like he shouldn’t be the one wincing especially as the other seems to almost entirely relax. But Remus is made for things that look uncomfortable, so he isn’t all that surprised. He finds a rhythm and finds himself fixated by the tight warmth that envelopes his finger, the way he loosens too with the movements. “Another?” he asks after a few minutes, Remus nods. 

“Don’t worry, I cleaned myself out,”

Does that mean he’d been waiting to ask this? Or is it just something he does when he’s expecting to spend time with Logan? Surely that’d be a hassle though, not that Logan knows the process at all. He’s not entirely sure he’s ready to know or do it either, even though Remus looks entirely in his element with his knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes closed and his face relaxed, despite how vulnerable and trusting this whole ordeal must be. Logan knows he, at least, would feel like that with his body so on display. Then again, the inside of Remus' head will never _not_ be a mystery to him.

He stretches the other man open with two fingers, and Remus catches his wrist and guides him “That way a little,” he muttered, “Other way, yeah right…” he inhales sharply, a low gasp of pleasure, Logan repeats the movement a few more times and gets it right at _least_ three of those times. “More,” Remus mutters, his voice a little scratchier, Logan reaches for the lube again mostly out of his own sense of security as he watches Remus stretch around his fingers. 

At least one of them has to do the worrying and it surely is not going to be the man currently known for his reckless and abandonment of critical thought. 

He makes it to three fingers in the end, before Remus is looking very flushed, his cock half-hard and leaking a little against his stomach. Logan really isn’t sure he’s going to take a whole cock, but the dark-haired man looks up at him with a look he’s never seen on his face before, it’s not the usual primal lust or even the cockiness of taking Logan apart. 

No, this is a look of someone who has no urge to be in control. “Fuck me,” he whispers it so much more quietly than the other man is used to hearing from that voice, “...please.” 

He reaches for the lube and lubes up his cock, stroking along his own cock until he’s hard enough to lean over the other’s body. Remus’ ankles cross over his back as he slowly pushes into him.

Logan has never had sex before, at least not where part of him is inside another or vice versa. He knew it to be pleasurable, he understood there was a reason people engage in things like this. He did not expect his eyes to roll closed as a low gasp of “Oh, _fuck,_ ” falls from his lips before he can even compute he’s saying it. The heat that envelopes him has him gripping Remus’ hands in his own in a desperate reach for control. His whole brain seems to go foggy as he restrains himself and eases in slowly, resting inside the other. He can feel Remus clench around the base of his cock, his mouth going dry at the sensation. The brunet buries his face in the other man’s neck and nips at his skin, Remus’ body pinned underneath him like prey, something the other is desperately enjoying. 

He sucks and bites at the skin he can access, slowly dragging his hips and relishing in the sensation that envelopes his cock with every movement. Logan doesn’t really want to speed this up, he needs Remus to adjust but also this teasing sensation that has his body feeling like electricity is something he wants to savour. So he takes his time for a few minutes until the other man lets out a soft whine that he’s certainly used to hearing from his own mouth, but not Remus’. 

He picks up his speed and stares down at Remus whose skin is all flushed and bitten, he looks a right picture of desire, the sort of thing that is only witnessed in the sliver of space in a Venn diagram of art and pornography. His lips part as he frantically begs for “more, harder, faster, please, please, please…” Logan has never been happier to grant a request in his life as his hips press against his partner’s ass, his nails scratching at skin in desperation to mark and claim something that really he knows already belongs to him. It’s a sharp realisation for the blue-eyed man to digest that he enjoys it, not sex he figured he’d enjoy that, but the way Remus transformed before his eyes from the person he is so used to viewing (cool and cocky, always in control in the most uncontrolled way), to someone who begs. 

He also enjoys the way he whimpers when Logan’s teeth break through his skin, the way his eyes roll as his cock twitches between their bodies.

Is this the real Remus then? Not someone who dominates, but someone who submits? 

Logan doesn’t consider it for too long because he can feel a pressure he’s all too familiar with wracking through his body, his nails digging into Remus’ wrists ( _when had he started holding his wrists so forcefully?_ ), his body aches as he fucks into the other, his strength trembling whilst he hangs on the edge for a second that feels like whole minutes. 

Then he gasps out Remus’ name with a shuddering moan, pressing into him as his cock twitches from his orgasm, sweat cooling on his skin as he rests his forehead on Remus’ shoulder to catch his breath. A sigh ghosts his lips and fans against his partner’s skin, a sensation that has Remus shivering underneath him. He pulls out slowly, lifting himself up to kneel, his cock sliding out as it softens. 

Despite not cumming himself yet, Remus has never looked more at peace as he looks up at Logan with an almost...impressed and awe-struck expression, a look that makes him blush to receive. 

He settles himself over Remus’ body again, his hand wrapping around his cock as he jerked him. He hovers close enough to kiss but every time the other man lifts his head to try and steal one, he leans back out of reach. Logan doesn’t know where the idea came from, but as Remus whines, he thinks he understands there may be something more instinctual within him than he first thought. Finally, when the dark-haired man begins to pant and gasp underneath him, his hips jerking into the hand around his cock, Logan kisses him firmly after a gentle but demanding whisper of “cum for me.” 

He swallows every moan and gasp of his own name between his lips, milking Remus through his orgasm until his hand and the other man’s chest is streaked with cum. He doesn’t stop touching him though, watching him twitch and feeling the shuddering breaths he takes from the overstimulation until finally he pulls away. The two of them staring at each other with flushed cheeks before they kiss again, warmly, and not minding the mess of cum and sweat or the way the room smells like sex. 

“Did I do okay?” Logan asks, his brain feeling foggy. 

“I’m not buying that you’re a virgin,” Remus replies, but his voice is so small and quiet that it almost doesn’t sound like him at all. 

“Are you okay?” 

He gets a tired smile in response and a soft kiss. “I’ve not been this good in a long time.” Remus lays back again, looking up at the ceiling with a satiated smile, his eyes falling shut for a moment. “I expected you to be a little more...scared, but once you got used to it, you…” He opens his eyes again, tilting his head to the side to look over at Logan. His eyes seem to flicker over the other’s face and body for a second before swallowing “...you seemed to enjoy it.” He finishes his sentence, and Logan smiles. 

“It felt far better than I could’ve prepared for,” He kisses him again, a quick peck to the lips. “We should take a shower.”

“Definitely, I can practically feel the cum drying in my ass.” Logan laughs and shakes his head as the two clamber off the bed to go and take a shower. 

\--

_**Interlude B** _

Virgil’s nails dig into Janus’ skin so hard it might bruise, water trickling between their bodies as their lips press together. They pull away as Janus’ lips press to his partner’s neck, his wet hair brushing against Virgil’s jaw in a way that makes him chuckle. “I feel like I’d take every shower with you if the damn thing wasn’t so small,” The purple-haired man mutters, turning around with the hands on his hips urging him to do so, his hands pressing against the wall as Janus’ cock grinds against his ass. 

He enjoys the way the other man explores his body every time, taking in every inch and pulling their bodies close together, so he can feel Janus’ heartbeat pressed between his shoulder blades. “The size is a little inconvenient isn’t it?” the other man muttered, lips trailing against Virgil’s shoulders, where he rests for a moment, curling around his boyfriend just to relax under the hot stream of water. 

“Just a little,” Janus hand slides between Virgil’s legs, dipping between his folds and sliding up to rub his clit. “Fuck,” he gasps, resting his forehead against the wall as his hips shift into the touch. The blond hums against his shoulder with a small smile of amusement, nuzzling his nose against Virgil’s shoulder to press gentle kisses to the skin there. 

“You make the prettiest noises,”

“You say that every time,” Virgil replies with an amused tinge to his tone, tilting he head back and to the side to kiss his boyfriend sweetly. “Suck up,”

“Only for you.” Virgil jerks his hips into Janus’ hand, his eyes closing as he gasps out the other’s name through his teeth, his hands bracing against the damp wall as the other rocks his hips into the curve of his ass, groaning from the slippery friction of water running over their bodies. 

The younger man bows his head a little, focusing on the sensation of Janus’ touch, grinding into it with low moans and gasps, his voice echoing off the walls of the bathroom and vibrating back to his partner’s ears. Janus revels in the sounds, he could spend forever listening to the noises Virgil makes. 

Especially when he’s all but fucking himself into the touch frantically chasing the stimulation and his reservation melts away in favour of loud curses and pleading utterance of Janus’ name. He cums with a loud moan and his hands balled up into fists, his legs shaking as a strong arm wraps around his waist to steady him. He turns in the arm that holds him and presses a warm kiss to Janus’ lips; once his head feels less foggy, he reaches between their bodies to repay the favour. 

\--

_**Saturday 9:17 PM** _

Roman had more important things to worry about lately than sex. But, even still, he knows there’s no good medicine like an orgasm; maybe he can’t afford antidepressants or whatever else the fuck it is he needs, but he can afford a bottle of lube and ten minutes to himself. 

He lies back on his bed, unbuckling his belt and sliding his jeans and boxers down to his knees, he squirts a little bit of lube in the palm of his hand and discards the bottle, before wrapping a hand around his cock, teasing it into hardness. The redhead closes his eyes and tries to think of the usual things, old crushes or boyfriends, maybe the last person he fucked or porn he watched once...but his mind wanders. His cheeks flush a little and his cock twitches in his hand as he thinks about Patton leaning towards him that night. 

Stopping him had been the right thing to do, he was drunk and there’s no way he wouldn’t panic and regret it, but now he’s longing to know what his lips felt like more than ever. He looked soft like he’d fit against him easily, and that his hands would probably feel delicate and cautious, experimenting. 

Roman feels wrong when a warmth creeps through him that none of the other fantasies could give, the thought of the other man’s kiss so soft and gentle and warm, his hands wandering and feeling, experiencing all of it for the first time. A low moan escapes his lips as he grips his cock a little less loosely, a little more firmly, thinking about how Patton might feel pressed inside him, looking up at him with those shy eyes and flushed cheeks. He seems the type to get easily flustered, he wonders how he’d react to Roman whispering “fuck me,” in his ears. 

He’d probably not last long either experiencing all that for the first time. 

Roman curses as his hips jerk to the image of Patton’s eyes screwed shut, blushing all the way down to his chest, all embarrassed and out of his depth, desperately gripping at Roman’s hips (his own nails dig into his skin to mimic the sensation). He whispers Patton’s name as his back arches and he releases over his hand, jerking his cock through his orgasm with a shaky breath. 

The man lies there for a moment, sweat sticking to his shirt as he stares at the ceiling, his mind a little foggy. He shouldn’t think about Patton like that, he knows it’s his hormones being irrational, but Patton is not an object of desire, he’s a person...and a person with a very complex relationship with sex at that. 

He brings his clean hand to run a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and even deeper sigh, shaking his head. 

\--

**_(In Which Patton Has Some Sort of Sexual Awakening)_ **

Patton was having a bad day, objectively it got better or worse. 

When he’s feeling sad, he has a newfound habit of asking Roman for a hug, it simply became, over the space of a couple of weeks, some sort of silent comfort thing. He’d ask for a hug, and Roman would say yes. 

But Patton didn’t get his hug today, he just stood outside of Roman’s door, his hand by his side and listened. 

He’d heard the others having sex through the walls so many times, his room is next to Virgil’s, and Logan’s is on the other side, and none of them are all that keen to be quiet. He’s heard it so many times that he’s gotten used to it and it rarely affects him all that much; but Roman, despite his charisma and obvious charm, has not been in all that much of a hurry to find a partner since he got here, he spends a good portion of his time alone. 

Alone he is, on the other side of that door, quiet he is _not_. 

Patton feels his breath hitch in his throat as he begs his feet to walk away but those sounds he makes, sound...delightful. He was always taught sex as something precious, a commodity, or otherwise, it is _destructive_. The sounds that Roman makes have him leaning against the wall, eyes closed with heat rippling down his spine; destructive maybe only to the way his resolve crumbles, but pleasurable it most certainly is. 

He can hear the sound of Roman’s moans, him panting and gasping, the creak of the bed underneath him and then a shuddering sound like everything has just...fallen into place. The final sound is so full of relief that Patton can’t control the way his own cock twitches just listening to it. He wishes he could know how Roman looks right now. He doesn’t really know how people look during sex but he imagines it’s warm and heated and there’s sweat on his skin. 

Then the final thing that has him turning around and running is not the sound of the other man climaxing, it’s his own name, whispered just enough for him to hear through these thin walls. His hand cups his own mouth to stop the noise of surprise, before he’s crossing the hallway back into his own room, closing the door so quietly he hopes no-one hears. 

He locks it behind him, his back resting against the wood as he pants like he’d just ran a marathon, his mind all in knots. 

_‘I did that to Roman?’_ he thinks to himself, breathless as this computes _‘without even being there?’_

He stands very still, eyes closed as his head rests against the door, biting his lip and looking for absolutely anything to distract him but nothing comes forward that isn’t drowned out by the way his abdomen tenses. Patton inevitably swallows and looks down at himself, the weight of his own body feeling too much as he makes his way over to his bed and lies down. ‘If I ignore it, it will go away,’ he tells himself like his mind can stop playing the sound of Roman’s voice or the yearning to open that door that had accompanied it. ‘I’m going to have to face it sooner or later,’ this voice sounds like his own but it’s confidence and self-assurance startles his own thoughts. 

Patton is right in this thought, he can’t run away forever. 

With a sense of spite and determination he pulls his pants and boxers off his legs and throws them to the end of the bed, lying back down and taking a deep breath. His closes his eyes and tries to figure out how to do this. How hard can it be, really? 

The blond wraps his hand around his half-hard cock and strokes slowly, wincing a little at the friction and inhaling sharply by just how sensitive he had _not_ expected to be. He doesn’t shout at his mind for wandering, he lets himself think of the sounds he had heard, but soon he’s just thinking about Roman; his smile and his eyes, he thinks about kissing him and whether he tastes like the fruits that he always smells of. He wonders what it would be like to taste him, to think of his body pressed to his own. Then like a train rolling down a track, he can’t even recall why he’d never thought of this at all. 

His mind delves into thoughts of touch and teeth and tongue, of parting his lips to accept Roman’s kisses and the weight of his hands on his body. His hips jerk into the touch, a loud and gasping moan on his lips as he moves his hand a little faster; the friction feels uncomfortable so he improvises and spits on his hand, but resumes the movements quickly and desperately. 

He feels like his whole body is winding itself up in knots as his hips shift into the touch, something frantic and desperate in his movements. The pleasure fires through his nerves in a way that’s reminiscent of a firework exploding, and he doesn’t know what the end result is, or how it will feel, only that he needs to reach it. There’s a sensation that feels like it’s building, slotting new pieces into place, despite the way his muscles burn he doesn’t want to stop. 

His body feels hot all over, his hands shaking and uncoordinated, frustration curling through his mind as his eyes screw shut from the pain burning through his forearm and bicep. Patton knows he’s close, he hangs on this edge, this moment of utter frustration and silent pleading to fall over the edge. 

Then he climaxes with a loud moan that is so unrestrained and filled with relief, his body shaking under the strain of his muscles, cum squirting over his chest and stomach until he feels like all his energy drained with it. He lies very still, panting as he comes back to earth, for a moment he feels very cold and the world around him seems deathly still. Then he grins with a heavy exhale and sinks into the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how he’d gone his entire life without that. 

The sinking sensation comes a second later and he sighs. _‘No, stop it,’_ he tells himself _‘It was good, that was good, it’s normal.’_ But the crashing waves of upset from before creep up his spine and he stands up to clean himself off, leaning against the sink after he’s shut the water off, to close his eyes and rest his forehead against the mirror. He stands very still and sniffles, feeling tears prick his eyes. 

Was it worth it? He doesn’t know. Patton redresses with shaky hands as that little euphoria melts away from him. ‘ _It has to be_ ,’ he thinks to himself, ‘ _because I can't spend forever scared of myself.’_

_**Or scared of Roman.** _


	8. Week 8: i wanna be your (boy) girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emile, Remy, Remus and Logan get that double-date.

“You…” Remus pokes Logan in the back from behind with a smirk “...have a crush!” Logan’s cheeks go very red at the statement and he scoffs lightly, turning around to look at his partner, the man grins at him with his trademark mischief and any word the other has on his tongue simply dies. “Look at you, you’re wearing your best shirt, your tightest jeans, and you took half an hour styling your hair, you...have a crush! On a man that is practically married no less!”

“Aren’t you...upset?” 

“Me? That my best boy is getting some experience? I’m vicariously living through you and _no_ less,” The darker-haired man jumps up to sit on the kitchen counter, “... _so_ you knew each other in high school right?” Logan makes a humming noise of confirmation “I see, and you fell out of touch?” Another hum. “And you were so sexually repressed you couldn’t tell you wanted to hop on his dick?” Logan, halfway through filling his bottle of water, sighs. “So what’s his boyfriend like? Is he also cute?” 

“Remy is a headache dressed in leather,” Logan replies curtly, shutting off the water. “Now come on, or we’ll be late,” He screws the cap back on his bottle and slides it into his satchel, pulling it over his shoulder. “And for the love of everything holy and unholy, try not to end the day sleeping with _either_ of them,” Remus gives a mock two-finger salute, but there’s an excited bounce in his step; when he’s happy he can be like a child, unrestrained, excitable, Logan finds it nothing less than adorable that even his happiness is uncontrolled (although he would never dare to admit it); Remus doesn’t care for people who stare at him strangely as this 20-year-old man bounces up and down the streets, walking backwards so he can talk to Logan and walk in front, spinning on the spot and gesturing wildly with his arms. He is so animated that occasionally he seems unreal. 

In such fashion, he throws open the cafe door and waltzes in, leaving the door to be awkwardly caught by Logan in an attempt to _not_ get his face smacked in by it. Remus recognises Emile sat at the table and then computes the smaller man sitting next to him, wearing sunglasses atop messy brown hair. Both of them smile and wave them over, the stranger (assumedly Remy), offers Logan a hug and pats him on the back in a way that was intentionally supposed to make him wince. 

“It’s nice to see you again specs,” He grins before plonking himself back down in the chair next to Emile, his gaze goes to Remus then, where he leans his arm on the table and holds out his hand with a grin that is nothing short of flirtatious “And very nice to meet you,” Logan and Emile both roll their eyes, meeting each other’s gaze as Remus accepts the handshake. 

“Likewise,”

“Alright, behave you two,” The psychology student interrupts, shaking his head, but he’s smiling with his cheeks slightly flushed. “What’re we drinking?” 

“Vodka, if I have my way,” Remus mutters.

“I like his style,” Remy clips in. 

“What’s a frappuccino?” Logan adds, a little absent-mindedly as he squints up at the menu. Remy looks at him with varying degrees of upset, Remus looks like he’s questioning their entire relationship. He orders a frappuccino in the end. 

They sit and talk for a couple of hours, the afternoon starts to blend into early evening and they’re accumulating coffee cups and little plates that once housed biscuits at their table. Emile talks about his degree, the things he’s learning about the mind that make him genuinely question the fragility of mankind. Logan listens, his head leaning on the palm of his hand, hanging off every word that leaves Emile’s mouth with rapt attention that cannot waver. Remy and Remus exchange small looks with each other between the two and their one-sided conversation. 

Remy talks about his work, he works in a coffee shop and he genuinely enjoys it too “...customers can be rude but I’m making and drinking coffee all day every day...” he hums a little, sucking at the straw to his iced coffee way too slowly for Remus not to follow the movement with his eyes. Logan doesn’t notice, and if he did he still wouldn’t have minded. Remus talks about his studies and the sort of music he likes, and his brother, but then he goes very quiet and shakes his head, deciding he’d talked enough. 

Emile looks at his watch around 5pm, with a sigh. “Sorry to cut this short...” he says with a small smile that does look genuinely apologetic “...but I have an appointment with Patton in about half an hour, so we should start heading out.”

“Ever so dedicated to your work,” Remy grins, and although his smile is teasing there’s a heavy load of pride in there that is sweet to witness. Remus and Logan don’t really do _sweet_ that well, either because of pride or discomfort, as their relationship is based on gentle bullying and eye rolls. “I should probably head home and sort out my work for tomorrow.” He grins as they stand, “It was nice to see you Lolo.”

“I hated that nickname then and I hate it n-” his complaint is cut off by the other man drawing him into a hug, he sighs and wraps his arms around his old friend, not quite understanding when he started to enjoy physical affection. 

“I like it,” Remus comments, standing beside the two. He would. When the two friends part, Remy offers him a hug too and the other man accepts with enthusiasm. The taller never really does know his own strength but Remy is twice his body mass so when he receives the rather forceful hug that would usually send Logan flying, he manages to keep perfectly balanced. 

Mutely, internally, Remus considers that a little hot. 

“I’ll see you later Emmy,” Remy leans up to kiss Emile’s cheek gently before the four of them part ways. 

He likes his alone time; not because living with Emile is anyway suffocating, nor does he dislike it at all. He loves him, and he loves the time he spends with him, but he thinks every human being likes to be alone sometimes, with their thoughts, even wandering through a rather active campus and watching the world turn around him. All the people and the noise fade into the background.

He’d missed Logan, he _likes_ Remus too, but there’s this gnawing anxiety in the pit of Remy’s stomach that he hasn’t felt in years. When his feelings for Emile had first come to fruition he’d never once thought he’d have a chance, anyone with eyes could see this man was hopelessly in love with Logan, except apparently the one person who was supposed to realise. 

Remy finished his last year of high school in a city he didn’t know because the worst loneliness he felt was the thought of being so far away from Emile. His parents had let him, they’d thought it was admirable that their friendship meant so much to him, that it was a sign of strength and kindness. 

He’d been fucking terrified. At the time he had no intention of telling Emile he loved him in a romantic sense, he was content to spend his life never telling him, never once expecting more than his friendship and a life of obedience to a man who was forever in love with someone else.

He’d also been furious though, some part of him still is. Emile was their age, graduating high school a year early to go to college in a city full of strangers and Logan just never...talked to them again. Radio silence. They didn’t know if he was dead or alive, if he was angry, or upset, or if he’d just forgotten about them so quickly. His best friends. 

Turns out it was none of the above, Logan had a habit of knocking up walls whenever he was scared, and perhaps unconsciously they were both reminders of something that he didn’t even know how to remember. 

But it’s not his place to really be angry is it? Logan hurt him too, yes, but not even a fraction of what it did to Emile. Remy had to drag him out of bed, make him food, push him out of the door to go to class because his entire life seemed to fall flat. Perhaps that’s why Emile fell in love with him, because he’d felt abandoned and Remy utterly refused too even when he was being reckless and insufferable. Remy even refused to blame him for his depression, he didn’t really blame Logan either.

“It’s just a bad situation,” he’d say “Logan wouldn’t just stop talking to us without reason, so he’s probably going through something too.” 

It’s still strange to see Logan now. He’s taller, his hair is getting long, his eyes are so full of life, he talks with expression and holy shit his _laugh_. Years of knowing that man and not once had he seen such expressive joy in his face. Is that because of Remus? Because of his new friends? Or is just the time and place and happenstance? He doesn’t know, but he does know despite the little bit of anger that still resides in him that he is genuinely happy for the other man. 

He’s happy for Emile too, because he knows his feelings hasn’t changed and Logan was looking at him like the stars shone in his eyes. 

He’s happy for them. 

Besides, if the expression on Remus’ face through half of that little double date were anything to go off, he’s thinking he might be getting a little something out of this too. 


	9. Week Nine: Would You Be So Kind?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Emile have a talk, Remus definitely has a crush, and Patton learns what being Transgender is.

Remus _adores_ Remy, he hasn’t stopped talking about him since they’d met. Logan doesn’t even have it in him to be jealous because the genuine excitement the other is displaying is... _nice_. Unlike Logan’s quiet form of a crush on Emile, Remus does not shut up about his infatuation for days after their initial coffee date, to the point where Logan is practically begging his partner to just ask Emile for Remy’s number after their next session. 

He doesn’t ask after their next session, Emile has barely stepped through the door before the dark-haired man is accosting him. Luckily the psychology student finds it nothing less than endearing. “He was fidgeting the entire session, but he seems excited and that’s definitely a plus,” he relays back to his old friend over a cup of coffee in the shared kitchen adjoined to Logan’s flat. “Getting him to concentrate was difficult though.” 

“Do you not mind that someone is pining over your boyfriend?” Logan asks curiously. 

“I’d be a hypocrite if I did,” Emile replies quietly, before sipping his cup of coffee, the curious look does not leave the other’s eyes and some part of the usually soft-hearted man just wants to snap, or scream. Or ask if Logan really _does_ walk around with his eyes screwed fucking shut because there’s no way that he’s still oblivious right? There’s no way he hasn’t noticed, what does it take for this man to take a hint and understand? “We’re both polyamorous, although Remy’s...not really one for dating usually, however he does seem to have taken a liking to Remus, I think maybe he’s curious about him and it’s not as though he’s not attractive.” That much is true, and the man knows he’s not unattractive, Logan would find it insufferable if he didn’t admire the fact Remus has all the confidence in the world. 

“I hope things work out between them, not just because I’m not very good at comforting people, but I think they’re very alike and are compatible with each other.” That also, is true. They both sip their coffee in silence, staring at the coffee table and avoiding each other’s gaze for a little while; like there’s something they both want to say, that they both want to ask...and so much they want to _avoid_ too. No amount of love can shake the fact that Logan abandoned Emile, and even if the man in question accepts him back with open arms and forgives and forgets...can Logan himself ever be okay with that fact? 

He missed Emile, and he didn’t even realise that he missed Emile. What sort of person does that make him?

“You’re overthinking,” the man whose hair is, as of late, highlighted in dark pink, interrupts Logan’s thoughts, twirling a strand of hair around his finger as his narrowed eyes scrutinise his friend. “You’ve got that face on,” he can still read him like an open book. Training to be a licensed counselor suits Emile, but his intuition alone goes a long way. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be, do you want to talk about it?” there’s a long pause, before he sighs and sits up.

“How can you just...forgive me? How are you just smiling at me and talking to me, and helping my friends? You should be angry.”

“I am angry.” Emile replied. “But I’m not as much angry at you as I am with the situation,” he leans up and places his cup on the coffee table, crossing his legs on the seat and leaning back against the back of the couch, his hands resting in his folded legs. “Remy told me that you wouldn’t just stop talking to us without a reason, and I knew he was right...for a while I blamed myself, I thought maybe it was something I did, I thought maybe you’d figured out I was gay and…” his jaw clenches a little “...but then I blamed you, and I blamed you for about a year, I was so, so angry with you that I felt like if I ever saw you again I was going to slap you.” Logan flinches. “Then, lastly, I just accepted that maybe we’re both victims of a very poor circumstance and there’s more to blame here than just people and choices made; you made a bad choice, I mean don’t we all at least once in our lives? But I knew there was no way my best friend would just choose not to talk to me without a damn good reason to do so.” He shrugs. “You weren’t here, so as far as I’m concerned it’s not for you to question whether or not I’ve forgiven you, or even why, but just accept that whatever my choice is that it’s the one I came to by myself. If I really thought you had ill intent we wouldn’t be talking right now.” His voice is so firm and decisive that it sends a shiver running down the other man’s spine. 

“Okay,” Logan accepts this with a nod, his lips pulling into a small smile. “Then I respect your free will to make whatever choices you wish with your life.” He understands though, he thinks if the roles had been reversed he’d have forgiven Emile in a heartbeat. 

It was a shock to see him again though, in fact Logan is still processing the fact that this was his high school best friend sat in front of him. He’d put on some weight since then and he looks happier, healthier, taller too, his hair is thicker and curlier and...everything about him just seems like he grew up. Not in the sense that he forgoes any and all childishness, but like he finally figured out how to look after himself. Logan has many regrets in life, but he thinks his biggest will forever be that he missed the chance to see Emile become a man. 

He remembers the first time he _ever_ met Emile, this lanky kid who never seemed to be in control of his own limbs, his hair too short and his discomfort in his own existence evident all the time. Then he remembers running into Emile a few weeks ago and seeing this person that he’d known, but with a bright smile that reached his eyes, his blonde-brown hair thick and curling, he’d turned around and saw Logan and stepped back for a moment. Then the smile returned. 

It seemed like fate, if either of them weren’t too practical to believe in something like that. 

Sitting across from him now, Logan thinks that if he wasn’t so wound up by what he’d done to the other man it would feel like no time had passed at all. They’re both different people, but the way they tune into each other’s feelings is unchanged; the way they talk is without the barrier of time, as though somewhere deep down those uncomfortable teenagers are still in there and looking for the only solace they had; their friendship. And Remy’s of course, because although Logan jokes at his expense, he doesn’t think he would’ve managed his teenage experience half as well without that man. 

Remy was always the one in the group who had a handle on every situation. He was clever, he was great with STEM subjects, and art, and everything. He didn’t get into their high school on a whim or anything, he was genuinely clever...but he never much liked to care about it. Whilst Emile and Logan were cramming for tests, he’d be the one dragging them away from textbooks to get them to practise the very basic amounts of self care. Logan did not cope half as well without the two of them. 

The last text he ever got from either of them was Remy, too. Emile gave up after a few months, likely because he was too upset to keep trying. It took Remy a year to stop, he kept updating Logan on the things happening in their lives with no expectation of a reply, and unbeknownst to him, Logan read _every_ single one.

Because, if nothing else, he’s fucking stubborn. It’s how Remy survives, stubbornness and sheer spite. And love for his friends. 

Logan smiles at Emile, because he missed him, because he loves him; because this man has too much love in his heart and there is not enough people in the world to give it too. And then he says it. “I love you,” it just slips out of his mouth, and his cheeks go very red as he surprises himself. But the soft expression doesn’t leave. 

“I love you too, Lo,” he never doubted _that_ for a second. 

Neither of them elaborates, even though they really should. 

\--

Patton wanders into the kitchen around midday on Thursday, he has no idea what he’s having for lunch, but he does know that he’s very much hungry. He opens one cupboard, then closes it, then another, then closes it, then realises he didn’t even really look in the cupboard. With a sigh, he leans against the kitchen counter and hums to himself, thinking way too hard over something as simple as lunch. The kitchen door opens and Janus walks in humming to himself, his phone in his hand and one earphone in his ear. “Afternoon,” the blonde tugs his one earphone out and shoves his phone in his pocket. “What did the floor do for you to be staring at it so hard?” Patton smiles and shakes his head.

“I don’t know what I want to eat.” 

“When all else fails, a bowl of cereal will suffice.” The taller opens his own cupboard and pulls out what looks like a bag of nuts and fruit. “Want some? It’s honey and seed flavoured, it doesn’t say what seed but now that I’ve eaten some I’m fairly certain it’s sunflower seeds.” Remarkably healthy for a student. Patton nods and leans down to open his own cupboard, pulling a bowl out from it. 

He moves closer and places the bowl down, before he steps back a little his eyes go to Janus’ arm. He’s wearing a vest, and it’s rather distracting, not just because he is built up of the sort of lean muscle a man gets from daily exercise or perhaps working in a warehouse (okay, _maybe_ a little), but because there’s a tattoo of a snake coiled around his upper arm, and absentmindedly Patton thinks he wants to touch it. “Do you like tattoos?” Janus asks, looking over at him with a smile. “I got that one done when I was 16, but that’s a secret,” he winks, and Patton’s cheeks flush at just a simple action.

“I’ve not seen many up close before, it looks really nice...can I...touch it?” He looks up, eyes wide, the blond man raises his eyebrows but nods in response. Patton’s hand reaches up, tracing the lines with his fingertips, it feels smooth, not even like there’s anything there at all. He brings his hand back down. “I expected it to feel like...like it’s bumpy or something but it just feels like skin.” 

“They’re raised a little when they’re first done,” Janus moves away to grab milk from the fridge, pouring some into each bowl. The two starts to eat, leaning against the kitchen counter “And a little sore, but not really painful...sort of like sunburn I suppose, then it gets a little itchy, but after that they’re fine.” 

“Do you have more?” 

“No, but I want more,” they hear a door open and close and look up towards the door in anticipation, Virgil pushes open the kitchen door, wearing boxers and a baggy shirt, his hair a mess. “You were taking too long and I missed you,” he yawns, moving to lean against the counter. “Hi Pat,” Janus raises his arm and Virgil wraps his own around his boyfriend’s waist, burying his face in the other’s neck. They seem so happy together, and comfortable around each other; he really wishes he had someone like that, or that he _could_ have someone like that.

“Do you have any other tattoos Virgil?” Patton asks curiously. 

“I have two in total, the one behind my ear and…” he shuffles around a little to pull his shirt up, Patton’s eyes go a little wide “...my top surgery date, right here,” just underneath the left side of some healed scars on his chest is a little date, tattooed to his skin. Patton isn’t really looking at that though, he steps closer, staring. 

“What...happened?” he asks, because he genuinely doesn’t know. 

“I’m transgender,” Virgil replied, because he’s used to that question. “These scars are from when I had my tits removed.” Patton’s mouth opens and closes, once or twice. 

_“Woah,”_ he finally replied. “That’s...cool, did it hurt? Afterwards, I mean?”

“A little, especially if I moved too fast...that was a damn nightmare.” 

“He acted like an invalid half of it.” Janus chuckles, shaking his head, “...all I heard for weeks was ‘babe can you get me this?’ and ‘babe can you get me that, don’t you feel oh so sorry for me?’” Virgil rolls his eyes and pokes the other in the side, then snorts when he tries not to spill cereal everywhere. 

“So...uh...sorry...are you gay?” He points at Janus, and then at Virgil because he figures that matters too. They both nod, looking at each other to see who is taking the explanation part, it’s almost like they silently communicate and it’s so sweet that Patton wants to _cry._

“Sexuality is fairly complex,” Janus finally replies, “Some people are attracted to primary and secondary sex characteristics, some to secondary or primary, some to neither...in my case I kind of just fell in love with Virgil over a period of time, I mean he was just always there and it never even really crossed my mind that he was trans, it just wasn’t a factor for me at all...in general, in my day to day life I tend to find men attractive based on completely random qualities, like jawline or eye colour; some people are very much adamant about the idea that being a gay man is an attraction to a dick, but I suppose that says enough about their personality.” He presses a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head. 

“I think I understand,” Patton thinks aloud. “I don’t think I’d care either way if Roman was trans, he’d still be him,” his cheeks flush red “I...I mean…”

“Your secret is safe with us,” Virgil zips his lips. 

“Oh my God,” Patton muttered, burying his face in his hands. 

“It’s alright,” Janus adds “Patton, it’s really _alright,_ I promise you, one day it really will not be so scary to you.” his deep voice is comforting and he always sounds so sure of himself, that Patton can’t even think to disagree, so he just nods with a small but _sad_ smile. “And hey, if you ever want to talk to someone who isn’t Roman then we’re here dude, I figured that maybe Logan wouldn’t be your first port of call with emotional shit and getting Remus to talk about stuff like this must be a nightmare so...you know where our rooms are.” 

“Thank you,” the smaller man wraps his arms around himself like it’s a forcefield of some kind. “Oh, uh...guys?” he asks, clearing his throat. “Sorry but, uh, do you think you could keep it down a bit at night? I don’t mind so much during the day but I also need to sleep,” he blushes (he’s starting to think blushing should be his day job, because he’s in a constant state of embarrassment around every single one of his flatmates), Virgil laughs, and nods. 

“Sure thing,” 

“Thank you.” 

Well, acknowledging sex _exist_ s sure is a first step, at least. 


	10. Week Ten: Mystery of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a playlist now: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/40ThpuznR1S9cnxB4vIhaf?si=ZlHTvinxS9KmPYF-kwECdA

Patton is getting the hang of his body. It seems like a strange thing to feel accomplished for, his body is, after all, something he’s lived with his entire life, something that is inescapable and constant. But since his last attempt at masturbation (that sounds too clinical, far too clinical, but every other option also sounds wrong in his head), he’d given it a go three times. Halfway through the first he had to take a break because his brain felt like it was on fire, and also his arm hurt, but eventually he got where he needed too. 

By the last attempt, he started to feel the guilt start to slip a little bit; his reasoning was that it wouldn’t make sense for something that was given to him to be abhorrent or wrong. It’s his body, surely what happens to and with it would be an act of free will on his own part. 

Still, everything he’d learned his entire life lingers, he supposes it might do so for many years yet. This is not a problem he can suddenly feel 100% better about. 

Having said that he’d never experienced this sort of pleasure before, not happy or sad just...euphoria, it’s such an overwhelming feeling that some part of him understands why someone would say that it’s destined to be used in moderation. Something that felt this wonderful should surely be sacred. 

But if that’s how he felt alone, how would it feel with someone else? Should he ask what sex is like? And who should he ask? 

He can hear what sex is like, although the whiplash between the two couples on either side of his room is exhausting; he’s not even sure he’d get the same response from Virgil and Janus, let alone from one of the couples to the other. Then there’s just the sheer embarrassment of asking that sort of question to any of them. 

Patton can derive that sex is pleasurable, even if the closest thing he’s had is all by himself, he can certainly understand from the few seconds before he slides on his headphones that the reason people have sex is that it is physically pleasurable to do so. And perhaps emotionally too, he’d always been raised to focus on that part, the emotional pleasure, the unity of two people in a moment in which all that matters is their love. 

He knows that Virgil and Janus love each other, not because of the sex although that is one part of it. He knows they love each other because they seem to communicate silently across rooms, and one always seems to know when the other is upset, he knows they love each other because Virgil didn’t have to ask Janus to put his arm around him, only sidle up and be embraced in the same movement. 

If nothing else then the way they look at each other like there’s nothing more precious than holding each other’s gaze...that says enough for Patton. 

But Logan and Remus, Roman had said, don’t love each other. Yet if he had to apply his observations for the other couple to them, then he would say that would be an unfair assessment alone. They certainly care about each other, they just have a much different way of expressing it. Neither Remus nor Logan are affectionate people...but they are affectionate with each other. 

They could be in love, one day. Maybe they already are. 

He thinks the best person to ask would be Logan, because he’s new to all this too and as far as he himself is concerned he does not love Remus; which is not to say there is no love between them, it’s just not the same way Patton had been raised to believe it. 

That and Logan does not get embarrassed, not really, and certainly not about sex. 

(He does know for certain he can’t ask Roman, because he might actually just wish to die by the end of the conversation)

\--

It takes a little time to get Logan by himself, and even when the moment comes he’s predictably nervous, cracking his knuckles against each other by the kitchen door as he shuffles from one foot to another. “Can I help you Patton or are you going to keep standing there staring for the remainder of me making my lunch?” The other man looks up at him with an amused expression, sensing his nervousness. 

“I...uh...well...I…” the blond clears his throat and straightens up a little, his cheeks flushing as he scrambles for his words. “I wanted to ask you a question...and I-I apologise if it’s out of line, o-or uncomfortable, or…” 

“Spit it out,” he doesn’t say it unkindly, his voice is not clipped or harsh when he says the words, no his tone is just amused, with a hint of a smile. Patton takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Right, yes, well...what is sex...like, physically and emotionally if possible?” 

Logan raises his eyebrows, his hand hovering with the knife that is loose in his grip, he places it down on the kitchen counter, before leaning against the grainy surface, his salad temporarily put on pause. “Are you sure I’m the person you want to ask? I’m under assumption sex is predominantly an emotional affair in your eyes, that’s not quite the case for me.” 

“Actually that’s why I wanted to ask you, because I’m hoping you’ll be able to explain more than what I already know.”

“I see,” Logan nods, folding his arms as he thinks silently to himself, choosing his words carefully before he considers what to say. “Sex is...healthy, firstly, it’s nothing inherently wonderful, nor terrible, but it can be either although I have not personally experienced it as anything negative before, I’m sure you have watched the news before in your life and had an understanding of how sex can be a destructive force, and given the institution you were raised in...how perceptions of sex can be detrimental and used to control or manipulate an individual, or a group.” Logan pauses for a second, checking that the other man is following his words. “As an experience, however, I’ve found sex to be enjoyable, I think it’s a pleasurable thing that people do because it has benefits of doing so; emotionally it is nice to be close to someone and you learn a lot about them throughout, and you understand on the most intimate level what makes their body tick, makes them feel good and bad almost...primally. But as a physical act, it relieves stress, it induces a euphoric like state that can be beneficial for you mental health, and overall it just feels...good,” he shrugs a little. “If you have masturbated previously then I’m under assumption you know that being touched feels pleasant, but someone else touching you is more...adrenaline inducing than that, it’s exciting to have that experience with someone even for someone like me who hadn’t applied the emotional energy until later on in the relationship.” 

“Right,” Patton mutters, taking in all the information for a moment. He stands very still with his eyebrows furrowed whilst he digests the words. “So...people do just have sex for the physical aspect of a relationship?” 

“I did,” Logan leans up off the kitchen counter to pick up the knife and return to cutting up vegetables. “But sometimes I wonder if I should have, now that I actually know Remus as a person.”

“Do you regret it?” 

“Heavens no,” Logan chuckled. “I’d never felt so content or relaxed in my life, but some part of me wishes I’d loved him first.” 

“Do you love him?” Patton asks quietly, the movements of cutting up cucumber pauses, Logan’s jaw tenses as he looks down at the chopping board. “Sorry if that...I’m sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright Patton, you don’t have to keep apologising for existing you know? You haven’t actually done anything wrong; to answer your question though I don’t know is the very simple answer, I don’t know if I love him, I don’t even know if I know what love is; and I suppose we’re not all that different in that regard.” He rubs his forehead with his free hand as though stressed. “I know for certain that I feel a way about him that makes me feel better about my life, I know that I enjoy waking up next to him, I enjoy making him food even though the lazy bastard could do with getting up and cooking for himself, I’m excited to get back from class to see him and all in all he makes my day and life a little like it’s no longer mundane or repetitive, but I won’t say he’s the only person I’ve ever felt like that for, nor will I shy away from the fact that the idea of loving someone is terrifying to me.” 

“I understand,” he does. He leans back against the kitchen door and closes his eyes. He’s been so emotional lately, he supposes years of forcing himself not to cry would do that to a person. He feels like he’s going to cry again now. Can you love someone you’ve never even kissed? Can you deny yourself the will to kiss someone for the rest of your life? Should he spend his life alone instead of dealing with the fact that it’s very possible he’s been lied too? 

“Do you love Roman?” Logan asks, because he’s curious over all else, Patton’s cheeks flush and he looks down at his feet.

“I don’t know,” Patton replies quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been loved before, I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.” 

“I think if observation serves, he at least likes you, and that’s a start; after all you don’t just get handed love on a plate like in fairy tales, it’s something that takes time and energy and understanding more than just what is shown to you.” Patton looks at him with a confused expression. “I’ve seen Remus sad, angry, crying, I’ve seen him trying not to hurt himself and I’ve seen him trying not to hurt other people...I’ve seen the hard sides of him and even then there’s still more layers to see, I don’t really know if you can truly love someone until you’ve seen them at more than just the smiles and flourishes that they display for your comfort and to attract you to them. People are multi-faceted, after all, everybody has a bad and worst side to them, perhaps you should try letting yourself like Roman back so you can understand if you really love him, and so you can see those sides to him.” 

Patton takes a deep breath and nods. “Thank you, Logan.”

“Not a problem, I’m under assumption if you’re asking me about sex it’s because you have a desire to try it, and I of course encourage you to do so, but don’t bite off more than you can chew; I was never particularly afraid of my sexuality the way you are, I was just ignoring something I wasn’t in a situation to face...but you have a lot you need to unlearn before you start throwing yourself head first into physical intimacy, otherwise you’re just going to scare yourself and that benefits nobody.” 

Patton nods in understanding, thanking him again as he opened the kitchen door and walked through it. He makes a decision, there and then, but he does not yet follow through with it. 

\--

Sunday comes around and Patton still hasn’t done what he’d said he would, only to himself, he’s the only person who can hold himself accountable for this situation, but he knows it’s what he wants, he knows that it’s what he desires perhaps more than anything else in his life. 

That doesn’t make it any less scary, of course. 

It’s midday, roughly, and he stands outside Roman’s door, the other man has probably been awake for about an hour by now because Patton knows he’s a late riser on the weekend, mainly because he spends all night playing video games and eating unhealthy foods. It’s his treat for getting through the week in one piece, but he tends to fall asleep around 1AM on a Saturday night, or rather a Sunday morning. 

Patton is not sure why he knows that detail, but it’s probably because he never stops listening when Roman speaks at all. He’d hang off every word of every sentence and listen to him talk forever if he could. 

His hands are shaking as he knocks on the door, and stands outside looking far too small in his sweatpants and baggy t-shirt. He’d started putting on a little weight recently so he looks a little less like a ghost but he’s not entirely sure he enjoys how his body changes with the weight gain. It’s just strange that his body feels different in so many ways lately, that and some sort of semblance of worth being placed on the fact he’s always been too small and too dainty. In school he was often teased for being feminine, although he’s not entirely sure being petitie makes anyone feminine or masculine.

Another one of the stereotypes that ended up burdening him for his entire life. 

The door opens and Roman stands on the other side, his red hair is damp and curling like he’d just gotten out of the shower, he’s wearing a shirt and jeans and there’s a little bit of glitter around his eyes but that also seems to be Roman’s way of doing ‘subtle’ makeup. He must be having a couch day today. 

Again, more little facts that Patton doesn’t remember picking up but just hoards like some sort of dragon. 

Seeing him makes him more nervous, his hands are trembling even more now just looking at him; his heart is racing in his chest so fast it’s almost shaking. He’s not sure he’s breathing either. “You look...scared,” Roman comments, his eyebrows furrowing. “Did something happen? Do you need a hug?” He’s never been so relieved to just curl up to someone in his life, his arms wrapping around Roman so tightly that the other leans back in surprise from the force. He lets the door close behind the two of them, wrapping his arms around his friend. The blond can feel his friend’s heart skipping a beat in his chest, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of him or because of the way he just knocked on his door looking like hell itself had just opened up around him and then pulled Roman into a bone-crushing hug. 

He’d practised it, over and over, what he was going to say and how he was going to say it, what he had to ask and how he had to ask it. To explain everything, to explain him, to explain how he feels for Roman. He’d had it all repeated in his head over and over again but the moment their eyes met all of that had disappeared out of the window and dissolved in the atmosphere. He buries his face in Roman’s broad chest, trying not to panic, trying not to cry. He could still just walk away, just say he was having a bad day. 

But for how long can he keep playing this game? How soon before it destroys his soul? 

Lying is a sin by itself, and arguably a bigger one than just admitting the fact he’s gay. Because if it’s not Roman then one day it will be another man, this history will keep repeating itself...is it worth losing someone who cares about him over it? 

Logan had said though, to wait until he’s ready, to make sure he takes this at his own pace. His own pace is frustrating him to no end, because he wants to say the truth. He’s said it out loud to himself, he’d slipped up discussing it with Janus and Virgil, and everyone around him with eyes knows that the truth is Patton likes men, and specifically he likes Roman a whole lot. Whether that’s love or a crush or some sort of lustful desire he doesn’t know, but he knows he’d be happier with Roman’s hand in his own. He knows he feels at his safest in the other man’s arms and he knows the way Roman looks at him holds so much care that he doesn’t know what to do with it all. He isn’t sure if it’s the fact he’s cared for by a man is more or less terrifying than the fact he’s simply cared for at all.

Because much like Logan, he too has never really been loved. 

And he doesn’t think Logan is a bad person; he doesn’t think Roman is a bad person or any of his flatmates...he thinks they’re good people, not despite of their sexuality but because of. There’s so much hate directed to these people every day and they simply smile and get through it all with so much fucking love in their hearts that he doesn’t know how they survive. 

So why does he hold himself to a different standard? 

Why must he be the one that has to suffer? Why can’t it be anyone else? He has to do this, for himself, for Roman, or he might suffer alone forever.

Patton untangles himself from his friend’s arms and stares at the floor, taking a deep breath. His words are still scrambled and he doesn’t know what they are or how to speak. The curly-haired man looks up at Roman with a pale expression on his face like he might collapse any second. He’s shaking so much that he might. “Whatever it is, Patton, it’s okay,” the other man muttered, his eyes worried as he meets his own, scanning him for any clue of what might have happened. 

“I…” his words catch in his throat, he doesn’t know what to say, what was it he wanted to say? How does he ask it? “Kiss me,” he finally says, because it’s all that his mind could supply, his cheeks flush, still unsure if he could handle another rejection. 

“Are you sure?” he asks.  
“Yes,” he has no idea if he’s sure, he must have terror written on his face though because Roman hesitates, but he nods again, encouraging him. 

Roman’s hands are very warm on his cheeks, his fingertips are calloused like he does something that requires the handling of rough tools, or maybe just the usage of his hands often. Patton is sure he can feel his pulse, but it might be the roaring of blood in his own ears. He closes his eyes, he waits. He feels the breath before his lips, but when it comes his entire body feels like jelly. 

At first he doesn’t know what to do, it’s just a peck really, their lips slotting together and lingering for a few seconds. It’s warm but...he’d expected it to somehow be scarier, or more intense. When Roman pulls away, he can’t help it, he leans up and captures his lips again, his lips parting like they do in the movies. 

That’s when it sinks in a little, when he feels Roman’s tongue brush against his own and his entire body feels like it’s floating, he feels dizzyingly warm too. His hands finally remember how to work, their shakiness easing as he grips Roman’s shirt and moves closer to him. The hands resting on his cheeks come down to rest loosely against his neck. His skin feels...electric. 

But he gets the hang of it, the rhythm, the movements, he doesn’t want to stop. 

Roman does taste like berries, and his body is warm against his own. But eventually, they both need to breathe, no matter how addicting this feeling is. Their foreheads rest against each other’s, taking breaths so deep Patton’s shoulders rise and fall with the movements. “How are you feeling?” Roman asked.

“Warm,” Patton replies truthfully, which gets him a short laugh. He looks for the panic but it doesn’t come, there’s something about the way Roman’s hands move to rest on his hips that feels so grounding, comforting, that he just can’t find his fears. He’s sure once he’s alone it will crash down, or maybe it’s delayed by the adrenaline and Jesus Christ he doesn’t want to ever stop kissing him.

But then it sinks in.

He kissed him. He kissed Roman. 

He tastes nice. There’s a sense of pride with the accomplishment. But then there’s…“Oh my God, I kissed you!” His hands dart to cup his mouth for a second; there are about seven different emotions that he’s feeling and the majority seem to fluctuate between positive and negative. 

“Yeah, you did,” but he looks up and Roman and sees the same disbelief in his eyes that’s so dazed and happy that the little bit of panic gets shocked out of him. The other man stares at him like he’d just experienced something that words can’t explain, and he smiles, Patton feels...relieved. Guilty, yes, afraid, definitely, but the most overwhelming feeling is the sheer wonder in Roman’s eyes, and how exhilaratingly happy that makes him feel.

“You taste nice,” he whispers, forgetting how to filter his thoughts.

“Thanks, I brushed my teeth.” The two laugh in a short manner though still processing the fact this had happened. They’d kissed, it had felt better than Patton had imagined, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. A weight that had been heavier than he’d realised, to be honest. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Patton nods, his hands finding Roman’s, they feel small in the other man’s. “I’m...panicking, but I am somehow okay, actually I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy.” 

“And that was just the kiss,” the blond sputters at the implication, burying his face in Roman’s chest as he feels it vibrate with his laughter. Once again, he has to squash up the thoughts of more than a kiss, although the thoughts are starting to feel less intrusive the more he allows himself to indulge them. Maybe he should talk about it with Emile, is that something he can talk about with Emile?

He wishes he knew the proper social etiquette instead of assuming every time he actually talks about sex would be wrong and an intrusion and against the other person’s personal comfort. 

“We should...have breakfast,” Patton muttered. 

“Yes we should, actually I know a nice place that does the most amazing pancakes,” the smaller untangles himself from Roman, looking up at him.

“Are you...taking me on a date?”

“Would you like to?”

Patton hesitates for a second. “Yes,” he manages out finally because that is what he wants. 

“Okay then, go and get changed and I’ll meet you in ten.” The grin that Patton gives is worth the tiny inkling of fear that they both share. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Roman can hear Remus’ warning, but as quickly as it comes, he pushes it away.


	11. Week Eleven: Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton talks about his feelings and is surprised to hear Roman's, meanwhile Logan and Emile break the ice.

Patton adores kissing Roman. He always tastes like fruit, or something equally sweet and the feeling is a bliss he could have never predicted. Like everything inside him just goes quiet. He kisses Roman a grand total of twenty times within the past week, and yes he keeps count because it feels important to him. He didn’t just do it once and run, he did it over and over again.

The panic is, of course, still there, it seeps into his chest every time he’s alone but he’s getting okay at handling that. He even bites the bullet and talks to Emile about it, hands fumbling with each other and cheeks flushed as he gets through the explanation of how he’s feeling. The other man listens attentively, nodding and humming alone, but even when Patton goes on to talk about sex not once does he become flustered or awkward or like he’s out of his depth.

That is comforting to him.

The truth is Patton wants to have sex, not as an active craving that he can’t shake nor more than anything else in the world, he simply wants to feel that giddy excitement that he’d seen on other people’s faces when they have a promise. Or the ecstasy on Logan’s when Remus was settled between his thighs. He thinks about sex quite often too, now that he’s starting to understand that this is actually a normal thing and doesn’t make him some sort of disgusting pervert.

When he explains to Emile that he’s scared of sex in equal amounts as he would like to try it, Emile says plainly and simply: “then you need to consider whether engaging in sex would be worth what it will do to you afterwards.”

“Logan said I should make sure I’m really ready first,” the curly-haired man replied softly, staring at his hands. “He’s right, but it’s also frustrating to me that I can’t just do what everyone else around me is doing, or...almost everyone anyway, and what if Roman gets frustrated with me? And...what if I’m never really ready?”

“Those are all valid questions to ask, let’s look at the first issue, why is it frustrating to you that you can’t have sex? Is it because you feel like you’re missing out on something positive? Or anger, perhaps, towards your upbringing?”

“I don’t know,” he leans back on the couch and brings his feet up to rest on the edge, shaking his head “...I want to do it, I think about it so often...I think about Roman like that and have almost the entire time I’ve known him, he’s the first person I’ve really thought of like that, it’s frustrating me that I’m not ready to do it because I mean...I feel like I should be! I should be ready! And I want to be ready as quickly as possible but I can’t be because of this stupid...thing.” He rests his forehead on his arms for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Sex is not the be all and end all of physical intimacy,” Emile says quietly “...which you may struggle to digest, given your upbringing, but there are more ways to care for and love someone than by giving them the highest access to your body, and at the stage of this relationship that you’re in Patton it’s completely normal to want to put emotional and romantic energy before sexual.”

“But...in films and shows and stuff…”

“That’s not real life, and you maybe want to consider stopping looking to fiction for some semblance of an idea on how to live your life, you have friends who can answer your questions no matter how painful or embarrassing it may be to ask.” Patton sighs and shrugs. “As for the latter half of your issue, you need to discuss your boundaries with Roman and have an actual discussion on how you are feeling, you cannot go through this entire relationship hiding from him...it’s not healthy for either of you, communication is the foundation of absolutely any relationship.” Emile pauses “And if you’re never ready then that’s a consequence that you’re both going to have to deal with together, however, unless you consider yourself not to experience sexual attraction or sexual desire at all...I will mention that it is entirely possible to just take your time, that doesn’t mean you’ll never be ready it just means you have to take it slowly for the sake of your physical and mental health.”

Patton nods dejectedly, because Emile is talking complete sense but he hates it, it makes him want to scream in frustration. Like he wants to stand on top of the tallest building in the city and bellow into the wind until his lungs ruptured or his heart stopped or maybe some sort of blessing came his way from out of nowhere. He doesn’t know. He just hopes to anyone who can listen to him that Roman does show him patience because he isn’t sure he could handle the opposite.

Having said that it’s not as though Roman did not know him, it’s not as if they don’t know each other at this point, and it’s certainly not like he didn’t wait ten weeks, patiently, even rejecting him because he was drunk despite the fact he could’ve taken the opportunity...it’s certainly not as though Roman hasn’t already proved he has patience to give.

Patton almost feels bad that he’d think otherwise even for a moment.

“I think that’s all for today,” he mutters, tucking a curl out of his ear. “I like your new piercing by the way, I don’t think I mentioned.”

“Thanks, it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” Emile’s tongue runs under his bottom lip, pushing at the two bars equidistant from the centre of his lip. “Anyway, I’m going to go and pester Logan, you should talk to Roman.” Patton nods, looking a little tired and he moves out of the common room into the hallway. He straightens out his shirt a little, and notes quietly that he really does need a haircut soon.

He knocks at Roman’s door and stands outside patiently, scuffing his shoes against the floor in need to fidget. When it finally opens, Roman beams at him on the other side “how was therapy?” he asks, closing the door behind Patton and holding out his arms for the other to slip into. He’s like a comforting blanket sometimes.

“It was therapy,” Patton deadpanned, sounding dulled out and exhausted, “...Emile said I should talk to you about personal boundaries and I don’t really know what that means, I’ve never really had to talk about my personal boundaries before because, well, no-one’s ever cared, I guess?” Roman sighs a little and takes his hand, leading them to sit down on the bed, he crosses his legs and faces Patton, leaning against the wall.

“Personal boundaries are things like, what are you okay with and what are you not okay with, what you’re ready for, what you’re not, in general I just ask for permission before doing anything, especially in public I’m understanding that you’re still finding your footing in all of this, and if you want to talk about it then we can, I see no issue with that.” The redhead holds out his hand, palm face up, and Patton slides his fingertips against the skin, simply watching the small movement. He’s so unused to physical touch that it feels like a wildfire opening up his nerves.

“I don’t know when I’m going to be ready for...you know,” he sighs, somehow it’s more embarrassing talking about it to Roman than it was Emile or Logan. Maybe it’s because Logan barely knew what sex was eleven weeks ago, and Emile always has that face on like he finds it impossible to judge anyone. “Sex,’ he finally forces out of his throat. “I don’t know when I’m going to be ready for things like that, and...I know eventually I’ll have to try it because I can’t get over my fears unless I figure out how to do it, even if I do it, there’s every chance that the aftermath won’t be something sweet or nice like you’re used too.”

“I’m not really used to anything, Pat,” Roman smiles reassuringly “...in all honesty I’m sort of in the same boat in a different way,” Patton shuffles a little, eyebrows furrowing. “I’ve had a lot of sex, I started out very young and...it’s done something to me that I’ve gotta figure out how to handle too, because I’ve never had sex with someone who I genuinely cared about, someone I genuinely...loved, which isn’t to say that I’m in love with you, but I think I’m definitely heading that way and the prospect of being physically intimate in that way is...honestly I’m probably just as scared as you are.” It’s a heavy thing to admit but Patton thinks he understands. “So I get the feeling that we’re both going to be waiting awhile, which is for the best really, that we learn how to deal with some of the feelings we have first, I’d prefer that too,”

Suddenly Patton does not feel alone in this room. He’d always felt like he was carrying the weight of his issue alone but the moment Roman admits he also wants to wait, even though their issues are different and separate, he realises that sex won’t solve the problem but that doesn’t mean either of them have to do it alone.

They still have each other in every other way.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to wait, but I do like kissing you,” he smiles a little, and Roman smiles back with a small nod.

“I like kissing you too, oh and hugs.”

“Hugs,” Patton hums with a grin “...I don’t know how I went twenty years without a hug, I love hugs!” The two smile and Patton shuffles closer to press a soft kiss to Roman’s nose, just a little peck, but when he pulls back Roman’s cheeks are flushed red and he looks flustered in a way that is almost adorable. He’d never described Roman that way before; alluring, confident, yes, very pretty most certainly, but this expression is...yes, it has to be adorable.

The two cuddle up in bed from there, talking about almost everything else, anything they could that would make them a little happier with their lives and relationship. Really, they could talk for hours or sit in silence together, and they’d still be happy no matter what.

\--

After the therapy session, Emile hovers outside of Logan’s door for a moment before knocking on, crossing his arms over his stomach whilst he waits. The door swings open and the other man stands on the other side, his hair damp and messy, but he smiles wide when he sees Emile standing there. “Therapy went okay?” He asks, gesturing for the other to enter his room.

“I really think Patton is making some progress, I’m proud of him, but he’s a little...I think he still has a long way to go.” The dark-haired man hums hanging up his towel on the little bar on the back of his bathroom door. Steam is still fogging up the mirror, so he must have just gotten out of the shower. “How are you anyway?” Emile sits down on the bed, Logan stares for a moment.

“Did you get your lip pierced?”

“No, these are just phantom piercings that only you can see,” the other replies with amused sarcasm, Logan rolls his eyes and sits down, pushing his glasses up his nose as he scrutinises them. “Yes you can touch them if you want,” his hand comes up and his fingertip lightly brushes over the metal ball at the end of each one, shaking his head.

“Did it hurt?”

“Not really, it swells up seemingly at random though which is unfortunate, but...all in all it’s not been nearly as painful of an experience as I thought.” Logan nods slowly, his hand coming back down to rest on his lap as he takes in the little pieces of metal and wonders lightly how they’d feel against his lips. “Have you ever thought about getting piercings?”

“I don’t really have the face or attire to suit piercings or tattoos,” he looks at Emile’s ripped white jeans and glittery pink sweater, the pastel-punk aesthetic suits him, but Logan wears predominantly shirts and ties.

“Everyone can suit a piercing Lolo,” the little giggle after that nickname makes him smile, nodding in agreement in some sort of tired fashion. Logan doesn’t know why he suddenly feels like all his energy has just disappeared at all, but he supposes it has a lot to do with the fact the little thought of how sweet Emile is bombards him. Emile has Remy, they’re happy together, and Logan still doesn’t feel like he even deserves his friendship.

He leans back on the bed and closes his eyes for a moment, just counting his own breaths, but they dart open again when he finds a soft hand resting on top of his own. “You’re stressed,” the other man says simply, not a question, not a demand for more, but an explanation as his thumb brushes over Logan’s knuckles. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I can talk about it,”

“To me or to anyone?” Logan shrugs. “No, don’t do this again Logan please, tell me what’s wrong...or tell someone don’t just...don’t just push everyone out again,” Emile’s eyes meet his own just for the second that he can bear the contact, and Logan knows he’s scared, he’s probably going to be scared for the entirety of their relationship that Logan will just block him out again without warning.

“I just don’t know how to say it,” he sits up and looks down at their hands, the gentle movement of Emile’s thumb draws circles over his skin. There are so many nerve endings in the hands, and every single one of them feels like they’ve just been set alight.

“Would it help to write it or...I don’t know, show me or...anything?” Logan must really scramble Emile’s brain, because he can advise Patton for hours and then sit in front of this man and forget years of education because he is just so desperate to love him, and be loved by him. His thoughts are no longer clear and consecutive, but an incoherent mess that fixates only on helping someone he cares about. Helping Logan doesn’t require a psychology degree, it doesn’t require a textbook, it just requires patience.

“I can show you,” he says finally. He intertwines their fingertips and stares fixated at the points of contact on their hands. “I really like your piercings,” he says softly, “...can I taste them?” Emile’s heart jumps in his throat and he blinks at the other man for a few seconds, wondering if he heard correctly, if this is actually happening, or if it’s some sort of dream that he’s going to hate waking up from. He nods slowly, his tongue darting out over suddenly very dry lips.

Although he has nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be anxious of, and he forgets how to be scared when Logan leans across and kisses him sweetly, their lips joining for a moment, before moving slowly. His free hand comes up to his friend’s cheek, and he shivers when his lips catch the piercings just for a moment.

Then they pull away, breathing not heavily but with a deep rise of their chests as if they’re trying to feel every second that washes over them. “How long?” Emile asks.

“I don’t know,” Logan replies truthfully. “Probably since high school, I realised a couple of days after seeing you again, and you?”

“Since the first day I met you,” Logan inhales sharply at the admittance of this, his heart thundering in his chest as he digests the fact that he had been loved. He’d been loved a very long time. He never noticed. His eyes start watering and he swallows dryly as he shakes his head, not knowing what to say or do, he rests his head on Emile’s shoulder.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” he admits, “I just feel overwhelmed.”

“A lot is happening in your life at once, a lot of changes, it’s okay to feel like it’s too much.”

“It is too much,” Logan admits “...but I’ll get used to it, I hope,” he wipes his eyes on his sleeve and shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “Years and I just never noticed, I thought I’d never been loved before.” A shaky exhale passes over his lips and he combs his hair out of his eyes. “But I think now I understand what love feels like, and...twice in eleven weeks that’s just not enough time for me to wrap my head around that but I will.” Emile smiles at him and squeezes his hand. “In the meantime I just want to enjoy what I have, even if sometimes it feels like it’s just too many emotions and too much at once it’s...exhilarating, to feel like this, so many years of being just absent from my own feelings...this is giving me a rush like nothing else.”

“Be careful,” Emile muttered softly “...you shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“I won’t.” He believes him too when he says this, if Logan says he won’t push himself then Emile trusts him to know his own limits. “I just do what I want to and feel like doing, most of the time, and sometimes I find out that it’s too much or something like that and I’m...okay with it, you know? It’s a learning experience.” Emile nods in understanding, when he’d first started dating Remy he’d felt overwhelmed a lot, having feelings so intense for one person was one thing, having them for two people was just a lot to take in. “Even if so many things happened at once they’re not bad things, they’re good things that are paramount to my own development as a person so...I’m not upset, I’m actually overwhelmingly happy.”

They both smile at each other, Logan’s hair falling into his glasses a little bit as they just absorb the moment in it’s seconds and minutes. “I’d like to kiss you again,” Emile’s voice comes out with a small whisper.

“You can kiss me as many times as you like, for as many hours as there are in a day,” replies Logan, sounding awfully poetic in his haze of romanticism. Their lips meet in the middle again, not in a quick or fast fashion just the movement of their lips against each other, Logan presses into the kiss and Emile’s hands feel so warm on his cheeks. The room feels less cold when there’s someone else touching him, even when it’s not a heated affair...there's just something so wonderfully grounding about human touch.

They both shuffle around and lie down on the bed, facing each other as Logan’s hand comes out to trace the piercings in wonder again, he’s never thought of himself as interesting enough for anything but plain shirts and black jeans. Which is strange because lately he’s been learning that he’s a lot more interesting than he’s allowed himself to be; he isn’t sure if his sexuality makes him more or less interesting but it’s not something he wishes were different about him. It’s not something that he’d think “I wish I wasn’t gay,” but he’s not exactly out and proud either except to the people here. Still, Remus and Emile must find him interesting in some fashion, he thinks they’re the most interesting people he’s ever met.

Loving them will be the biggest adventure he’s ever had.

Emile leans down and presses a light kiss to the tip of Logan’s finger with a small smile, Logan taps his lips by way of reciprocating. The other man offers a mischievous sort of smile before he leans down and sucks lightly at the same spot he’d just kissed; the dark-haired man lets out a small noise as Emile’s tongue brushes against his skin, his cheeks flushing a little. But he doesn’t stop him, he has no desire too, he just watches as his finger disappears past Emile’s lips and wonders if that is supposed to feel so erotic.

Then he pulls off with a pop and Emile grins at him almost teasingly. “You’re so easy,” he shakes his head with a laugh.  
“Easy at what?”

Emile moves closer, brushing his nose against Logan’s. “Easy to wind up,” then he kisses him, but Logan moves forward at the same time he does so their lips meet in an almost bruising way. He can feel his heartbeat pick up, their bodies pressing together and his hand gripping at the sleeve of Emile’s jumper. The movements are so fast and he doesn’t know when he ended up underneath the other man, he just knows when Emile’s hips press to his own he gasps out into the kiss.

Emile has waited years for this moment, so going slow isn’t exactly his prerogative. Logan has no desire to compute the situation as he grinds his hips up against Emile, feeling the weight of his hardening cock pressing to his own. The kisses trail from his mouth to his neck, before Emile whispers against his ear: “I’d love to fuck you sometime,” Logan doesn’t know why his cock twitches, or why he whimpers, the idea of being fucked is absolutely terrifying to him, but the idea of Emile fucking him gives him far more than just fear.

“Maybe some other time,” he replies back, like that premise isn’t making his body feel like jelly.

“That’s fine, can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, please,” Logan whimpers, he misses the heat of his body the moment Emile pulls away, watching him unfasten his belt and undo his pants. He pulls them down and off him, but there’s no commentary or pause for a breath, before he knows it Emile is taking him down his throat eagerly.

The emotional aspect of sex, Logan had realised recently, is a good thing to have, however then moment the head of his cock hits the back of his partner’s throat he isn’t really thinking about how much he loves Emile. Mostly his brain blue-screens and his hands grip the bed sheets as he shifts his hips just a little.

Emile must have some sort of way to stop his gag reflex from working, maybe it’s just a good sense of control, because he just takes him down again and again without so much as retching. Remus has a habit of just triggering his gag reflex purposefully, he enjoys it in a masochistic sort of way, it makes his eyes water and his stomach hurt and that’s enjoyable for him; sometimes it’s enjoyable for Logan too in a more sadistic fashion, but most of the time he just worries.

He lifts a hand to run through Emile’s hair gently, pushing it out of his eyes so Logan can see his face. His eyes are closed like he’s enjoying the moment, and he is, but when they open to meet Logan’s gaze he feels like his entire body heats up.

Internally, Emile’s mind is racing, he can’t actually believe he’s doing this. He feels like some part has to be a dream, and then he thinks that maybe he’s thinking a little bit too much and moves his mouth up to the head of Logan’s cock, leaning his weight on one arm as his other hand grips the base.

He keeps his eyes on Logan as he watches and feels the other get closer, watches his eyes screw shut, commits every detail and moan of his name to memory as the bitter fluid squirts over his tongue. He looks prettier than Emile’s imagination could have ever conjured, but to be honest he’d always thought Logan to be rigid even for sex, until of course recently. This new Logan, he had no idea what he’d be like.

Expressive is certainly one, he’s not exactly quiet. Stunning would be another.

He leans up to kiss him again and Logan shivers at the taste of cum on his tongue, his hands resting on Emile’s lower back as he maps out the points of his body silently, accepting the warm kiss as their lips slide together. “My turn,” he mutters, and they both move so that Emile is lying down. Logan likes to take his time more so than Emile, or Remus for that matter, he finds that his curiosity can never really be satiated when it comes to the human body.

There’s biology the way it was taught, diagrams and textbooks and all that nonsense. But then there’s this. There’s sliding his hands under Emile’s shirt and watching his chest heave with a deep breath as he arches just so into the touch. There’s ghosting his fingers over his ribs and watching him shiver and twitch, there’s carving his nails into his skin and his cheeks flushing as a gasp escapes from his lips. There’s leaning down to suck at his skin and feeling his cock hardening against him, inching closer and closer as he moves down his body; the little touches tease and frustrate Emile, his hips shifting for desperate contact, and Logan loves that.

He finally gives in, freeing his cock from his clothes as he leans down and takes the tip in his mouth, his tongue pressing and moving against the skin as he bobs his head. Emile whimpers, one hand gripping the bed sheets as the other runs through Logan’s hair, playing with it but not tugging.

Not for now, anyway, but when he finally starts to really move his head, his hand wrapped around the base of Emile’s cock as he moves quicker and with more intent of letting him cum, Emile’s grip becomes like iron and Logan finds he doesn’t dislike that at all. Actually it feels encouraging. He looks up at Emile as best as he can, studying with his movements the way the other man tenses and twitches and moans.

There’s just something nice about doing this to a person, and although the release always tastes less than enjoyable, he swallows it as it comes. There’s just something nice about Emile, breathless and flushed and boneless underneath him as he pulls off and watches him exhale shakily.

He’s very pretty.

He leans up to kiss him softly, before lying down next to him, pulling the covers up over his body a little, not in the mood to go searching for his underwear. He ends up resting his head on Emile’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as it thuds in his chest, their fingertips intertwining as he listens to the silence and their breathing.


	12. Week 12: Looking At Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re all going out to drink and dance, Remus and Logan give Patton a hand so that he can dress up for the occasion.

> _“Don’t just stand there staring honey,_
> 
> _Try to move your feet,_
> 
> _If you think they’re looking at you,_
> 
> _They’re looking at me,_
> 
> _I can make this nice and easy,_
> 
> _Imma take the lead,_
> 
> _If you think they’re looking at you baby,_
> 
> _They’re looking at me.”_
> 
> _**-Looking At Me, Sabrina Carter.** _

\--

Patton has heard the phrase “dressed to kill” before, but he’d never thought it would apply to himself. If himself is actually who is staring back at him in this mirror right now. 

They’re going out to the club again tonight, and this time he’s going to let Roman decide the appropriate amount of alcohol for someone with absolutely no experience with drugs in his system. But he wanted to surprise the other, wanted to see that look on his face that Remus gives Logan, or Virgil gives Janus, that wide-eyed _“ **God** , I want you in my life,” _when they’re all dressed up. 

Plus, everyone else always looks so _nice_ for these occasions. 

So Remus and Logan took him shopping. Logan was really only there to pay, because he’s as inept at fashion as Patton himself, but he’d offered to do so and it’s not as though the man had much money himself to say no to that offer. “Just this once,” he’d said sternly, and the brown-haired man had smiled and nodded silently. 

He’d been forced into all sorts of outfits, but in the end it was both Logan and Remus that got him into the perfect one. “He’s not you Remus, we have to balance this out a little,” Logan had interrupted. “Otherwise he’s just going to look uncomfortable.” 

And he _is_ a little uncomfortable, he’d never worn this sort of article in his life. But he’s stood in front of the mirror with a nice pair of shoes and socks that reach his thighs. “Yeah I know how this looks,” Remus had told him, holding up something that Patton had only seen women in movies wear, “...this is like a belt, for thigh highs, you put this part around your waist, and clip these parts to the top, to stop them sliding down, don’t worry the dress will cover it so you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing it.”

And then there’s the dress. It’s white, reaching about an inch above his knees. The straps hang comfortably just off his shoulders. “You look nice, Patton.” Logan had said as he stood awkwardly outside the changing room, trying to ignore the slightly strange looks some of the customers are giving him. “As Remy and Emile will be joining us, I propose Remy does your makeup, if you would find that agreeable?” 

Remy had turned up an hour early and snuck into Patton’s room with a grin. “Nice to meet you! Sit down and don’t move unless I tell you too.” The blonde had sat very still for a _very_ long time, as he’d no idea what makeup he’d like, he just told Remy to go with whatever looks right, whatever looks nice. 

Patton looks at himself in the mirror and he barely looks like him at all, actually if you didn’t look too closely, one would think he was a girl, a very thin girl with a flat chest. There’s a shy little look of awe as he studies the glitter on his cheeks, that were now contoured to a degree that his entire face shape looks different and yet somehow it still doesn’t really look that bold. The eyes had been the part he’s hated the most, feeling something press to his eyelids, blending colours and shapes, and white eyeliner. 

The blond pushes his glasses up his nose gently before his hand falls to the subtle little jewelry around his neck. “I think it’s perfect for him,” Remus had said, a little too loudly. 

“I think it’s too much.” Patton had said, eyeing the price tag. 

“Do you want it, though?” Logan asked earnestly. He’d faltered, and that had been all the answer he needed. 

“I‘d ask if you need lingerie,” Remus jokes lightly whilst Logan pays. “But I get the feeling that might be a shopping trip for the future, however, if you ever need that sort of advice…”

“ _Please_ stop talking,” Patton mutters, his voice very high-pitched. No, he decided, he is _not_ having that sort of conversation with his boyfriend’s twin brother. 

The necklace is a little silver chain with an angel at the end, a light blue gem sculpting out it’s body, and little silver wings. It falls just below his collarbone. 

And now he just has to keep his calm, keep it together, he’s worried if he starts crying he’ll ruin the makeup that Remy had spent so long keeping neat and tidy. He’d been so excited when they’d bought them, but now the nerves are making his heart hammer in his chest so hard that he’s worried his body might shake. 

He _is_ shaking. 

There’s a knock at his door and he can hear people chattering. Despite the socks, he feels too exposed, too cold, like there’s just too much for him to see. “We probably shouldn’t crowd outside,” he hears a voice, he recognises Emile’s soothing, calming tone. 

“We’ll wait downstairs!” He hears Remy calling, sounding as though he’d already started drinking. 

“You guys go ahead, I’ll wait here for him, he might just be nervous about being at the club again.” He hears Roman speak, his care for him makes that cold slip away. 

“Sure,” Logan, the only person probably keeping a straight face. 

“Awh but I-” The front door opens and whatever Remus was about to say gets cut off, but he hears a distant “Ow! You didn’t have to hit me Remy!” He laughs shortly, trying to keep his breathing even and calm. 

Then he opens the door and peers around it, it’s just Roman, who leans up off the wall with a wide smile, always excited to see him, which falters into something of awe when Patton steps out of his room. “ _Hello,”_ the redhead mutters, his lips hanging parted in shock, looking like all he wants to do is to kiss the other. Or put his hands on him, his eyes trace Patton’s body that for once is not drowning in his clothes. 

“Hi,” Patton replies softly, a small smile on his lips. 

“You look... _amazing,_ ” he whispers, swallowing dryly. “I mean you always look amazing, I’m not saying that you don’t, it’s just that…” Patton kisses him, feeling something powerful by the fact he’d seemingly shorted the other man’s brain like that. Roman kisses him back, but Patton can feel the little stumble he does before his hands finally rest on his partner’s waist. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” The blond shrugs lightly. 

“I think that you all make me feel a _lot_ braver.” He admits, and Roman smiles back, holding out his hand for the smaller man to slide their fingertips together. 

When they get downstairs, Patton is greeted with wolf-whistles from Virgil and Janus, everyone else chuckles, well Logan cracks a small smile and rolls his eyes over the boys being _boys_. The outside air is cool, and he’s regretting not bringing a jacket already, but he holds onto Roman’s hand and leans in close for the warmth. 

Walking into the club is as overwhelming as it was last time, the music is loud, the lights are bright, and it makes him jump a little bit. He’s been jumpier a lot lately. Roman asks him if he wants a drink and he shakes his head, not yet anyway. So the redhead pulls him onto the dance floor instead, he laughs but he doesn’t know what to do once he’s there, there’s so many bodies around him dancing and laughing like it’s the closest thing to worship they have. 

“Don’t panic,” Roman calls down his ear. “Nobody is watching you.” he pulls Patton closer to him so they don’t get separated. 

And they dance. At first the nerves wouldn’t leave but then he got so lost in the energy and the boiling sensation of being.. _.alive_. He’s alive, here and now, in the tempo of this far too loud music and the flashing of these far too bright lights. Across the room he catches Remus dancing with Remy, whilst Logan and Emile sat at the bar (he can just about see them through the crowd, watching their boyfriends with amused smiles, Logan leans his head on Emile’s shoulder and then the crowd closes up and he can’t see them anymore). 

Roman’s rests his hands on Patton’s waist, his front pressed to the other’s back. “Try to move a little darling,” that little pet name falls off his tongue and Patton feels a shiver run through him, but he obeys, copying some of the movements he sees, things he’d never try in his life before now. 

For a second everything goes quiet, nothing in the outside world changes, but all he hears is his own heart rate and breathing as he presses his body against Roman’s and simply enjoys the friction and heat and the feeling of adrenaline racing. 

They must have danced for a long time, because he’s a little tired and very giddy when they finally go and sit down. “Can we sit outside for a little while?” he asks, as Roman hands him a drink that he warned will not taste nice at all. “I need to cool down a little.” The redhead could never be disappointed when Patton holds out his hand, and he isn’t, he never thought he could enjoy the quiet until he met Patton.

Roman sits down outside on the little wooden bench of the smoking area, digging through his pockets for his little tin of rollups. The blonde rolls his eyes and plucks it out of his mouth, leaning down to kiss the other. When he bends over to do so, he can feel the skirt riding up his thighs and something about the movement felt too...illicit, too _hot_ for him to ignore. Roman grins, his hands resting respectfully on the other’s waist, before pulling him closer with a light laugh. Patton stands back up straight between Roman’s legs, placing the cigarette back in his mouth. The other man pulls it back out, instead burying his face against Patton’s body, and the smaller wraps his arms around him, burying his face in Roman’s red hair. He smells like berries again, it must be his shampoo or body wash or something. He loves that smell. 

He pulls back to tilt Roman’s head up, their drinks forgotten beside them as he leans down to kiss him slowly. It’s slow in a way he’d never experienced, usually slow feels soft and it feels gentle and nothing else, nothing more. But this time it sends a jolt through his body in a way he’d never felt before. 

He kisses him slowly, their tongues brush together, he moves closer, their lips drag and the sensation makes his heart hammer. Patton stumbles a little, and steadies his body with one hand, leaning against the fence that Roman’s back is pressed against. The other man’s hands go to his lower back, resting comfortably but Patton’s whole brain screams for those hands to just move a little further down. 

It’s insane, how little he remembers in moments like this, like all he has is his biology and this feeling...this heat...this _yearning_. 

This need to be loved in a way he has never had, to be really loved and be unafraid of that, it’s all he wants in life. It’s the only goal he cares about the only future he sees for himself. 

In Roman’s hands. 

That’s the only place he’s ever felt safe. 

They pull away and Patton stands up a little straighter, his hand resting against Roman’s neck, he can feel the quick thud of his heart. The taller man stares up at him with this expression on his face that couldn’t be any less than amazement. Because although everything else is not new to Roman, being really loved is not something he has ever gone through. 

Not like this anyway. He loves his brother, his brother loves him. But it’s a different sort of love, it’s a love with strain, it’s a love with arguments and fear, it’s a love where sometimes they want to _kill_ each other. That’s how brothers tend to love. 

But he’d never been loved for no other reason than he is just enough for someone. He was chosen by a single person who decided to uproot his entire life on the sheer basis that he cares for him. 

Roman exhales shakily and puts the cigarette finally in his mouth, lighting up and exhales smoke before he’d even taken the damn thing out of his mouth. “I’d like to see you grow old one day,” Patton says softly, Roman chokes on the smoke. “I can’t do that if you keep smoking.” 

“One day is a very long way from now.” The redhead arches his eyebrow like his cheeks aren’t bright red in the evening night and the glow of the clublights. 

“Time runs faster than we think.” 

That much is true, and how much of their lives have they already lost? The experience of teenagehood was never truly experienced by either of them. Both in abusive households, Roman inevitably a single father of his explosive twin brother by the time he’d reached 16, and Patton who was still counting bruises. Living in dolls houses and wondering why they both feel like they’re made of porcelain. 

Why they both feel so _fragile_.

Roman blows smoke and leans up to kiss Patton again, seeking some sort of familiarity, Patton kisses back with that slow grounding sensation, his fingertips ghost Roman’s exposed collarbone and that simple touch has him gasping. 

They both pull away again. 

“Can I hug you?” Patton asks. 

“Of course,” Roman replies. His arm wraps around Patton who leans down to hug him. The angle is awkward, so he takes a deep breath and shuffles closer, resting his knee on the bench, basically sitting on Roman’s thigh as his arms fall back and he rests his head on the other’s shoulder. “Are you tired?”

“Not physically,” Patton gives a tight smile. “It’s just time goes so fast, how much of it will I ever live?” 

“As much as you can.” Patton kisses the corner of Roman’s lips gently, then captures the smoke exhaled straight from his lungs. It doesn’t taste too bad when it tastes like Roman too. He exhales the few wisps that he’d caught. Roman throws the cigarette on the floor and wraps his arms around his partner’s waist, pulling him closer. Patton makes a small squeak of surprise, his other knee coming up to rest on the other side of Roman’s thigh, he sat back on them and kisses Roman again (and _again_ and _again_ , as many times as he can). Then he drinks, it tastes disgusting, it’s beer and it’s basically water and lemonade. He drinks it all at once, desperate to get it over with. 

“That tastes _awful._ ”

“Would you like a sip of this, a sip only, but it tastes nicer.” He sips it, it tastes like fruit, but he can definitely taste the sharp alcohol. 

“What’s in that one?”

“Vodka and gin.” Roman chuckles as the other shakes his head, tilting his head back for the kiss he knows is coming. 

Patton does not know why the slow kisses feel faster, he doesn’t know why every drag, every pressure where their bodies meet feels like static. Roman’s hands slide from his waist up his back, and he feels like he’s being cradled in those strong arms; protected by him. But it isn’t where he wants him to touch either. “Don’t be scared of me,” Patton mutters against his lips. “You know my boundaries, you know what I won’t do, you don’t have to avoid all the parts of my body though.” He feels the way Roman takes a short breath in and pulls away, studying his face, but Patton is not drunk, he is giddy and flushed and warm, but he’s perfectly capable of thinking. The blond nods with a small smile and leans down to kiss him again, shifting closer as he enjoys just this moment, and Roman’s hands map out the curves of his body, before resting carefully on his ass, he doesn’t squeeze, Patton can practically taste his worry. So he moves his own hand over Roman’s and presses just a little, showing him that _is_ what he wants. 

So Roman squeezes, gently, and Patton gasps into his mouth very quietly. The encouragement reassures the other and he moves his hands to the back of Patton’s thighs, still over the dress, squeezing just a little. 

He feels his cock twitch and a soft sound rips from his throat. It seems to scare Roman because he pulls away, and breaks the kiss, studying the other’s face for any sort of panic. “It’s okay,” Patton mutters. “I-I read a book, a proper one.” He admits suddenly. Roman blinks. He sits back a little and shrugs. “Emile said to stop looking at fiction so I read like...a psychology book, it was very long, and a little boring.” Roman lets off a small breathless laugh. “It said that when you deal with religious trauma, you have to take things slowly, and just because it feels like things are heating up it doesn’t mean you can’t still say no at any point.” 

_‘That makes **perfect** sense,’_ Roman realises. Why hadn’t he thought of _that?_

“And right now I just...I want this, I like how it feels even if I’m not going to do anything about it, I’ll know when I feel bad, and right now I don’t, I feel _good._ ” There’s a distinct sense of pride in Roman as he looks up at Patton. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, did I push too much?” He doesn’t really realise he’s crying until his vision goes a little blurry. Roman blinks and laughs breathlessly, bringing a hand up to wipe his eyes as he shakes his head. 

“No Patton, I’m just very proud of you, you’re actually verbalising your thoughts and understanding your own limits, that’s...that’s _admirable._ ” That’s something he never really learned how to do. 

He’d always push himself. Not like Remus would, not like Remus did. But with sex? Roman spent at least three years of his life looking for love in back street alleyways and people he never saw again after a couple of hours. 

He can’t believe Patton actually just taught him something very important. And that’s that he has to understand his own limits too, not just shut up and say he’s okay when he’s not. “And if I get uncomfortable?”

“Then we can stop. It’s fine, I’m never going to be impatient, especially after all the patience you’ve shown me.” 

“Can we go and have another dance, and maybe do this somewhere that isn’t a bench behind a club?” 

“Oh, right, yes, actually that’s a good idea.” Patton laughs softly and it sounds like a giggle as he clambers out of Roman’s lap, the other man reaches for his glass and downs his drink before they both walk back into the club, handing the glasses back to the bartender. The crowd makes Patton feel a little anxious, that little feeling that he’s in the wrong place, that he’s not right for these people. But then Roman starts dancing, that smile on his lips and Patton feels like the world’s luckiest man as he lets himself be pulled to Roman. 

He notices too, that people tend to look at Roman. He’s a good dancer, and he’s _beautiful,_ but Patton knows if he hadn’t taken his hand his boyfriend would’ve had more than enough people to dance with. So he dances with him, and enjoys the way his heart thuds in his chest as he does. 

When they finally stumble out of the club, they’re not drunk but they are giggly, Roman lets Patton tug on his hand and admires the way the blond bites his lip softly. “I’ve never danced like that before,” Patton admits with a soft hum.

“How do you usually dance?”

“Boringly.” He doesn’t know if that’s a word, it sounds funny when he says it. 

“Show me!” 

Patton huffs a laugh and shakes his head, but Roman stops walking, his hand pulling Patton’s gently. “Here?” he asks, standing in the middle of a street. 

“Why not?” 

“There’s no music,” 

“Do we need music?” Patton looks down at his feet, a small smile on his lips. He tugs Roman towards him and places his hand on the other’s waist. 

“Just follow my lead, and try not to step on my toes.” Their hands that are joined intertwine and Roman’s hand is on his shoulder, despite the fact he’s taller. 

And they dance. Just the two of them, in the street, until their movements slow and they’re just swaying and looking into each other’s eyes. Roman’s hand trails to his cheek and cups it and then leans down to kiss the smaller man gently. It’s just the slightest peck with their lips joining for a second and no more, but Patton feels a warmth spread down his spine; not the usual heat, it’s not arousal or longing or a sexual desire, but his heart thunders in his chest and the surface of his skin is like a current is running over him. 

And then he thinks, not that he wants to fuck Roman, or that he wants to have sex with him, but in true fashion to his heart: _“I want to be as close to you as possible,”_ it just falls from his lips, his eyes wide and sad and scared. That’s the closest to “I love you” that dares to really fall from his lips. 

“Physically or emotionally?”

“I don’t care, emotionally maybe I...physically I’m just not, we’re just not ready for it.” He shrugs a little. “Maybe that’s why I feel sad.” His hand trails from Roman’s and he stands back a little bit. “So far every time I thought about...sex it’s just been...desire, the things that happen when your body is close to someone else’s, but you just kissed me and it was different, it wasn’t a physical reaction, I felt it in my soul,” he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, before smiling. “That’s nice, that means something _good._ ”

Roman nods and smiles back, “I mean, I think it’s good that you actually have feelings for me, not to be the snake in the garden of eden luring you into sin.”

“Love isn’t a sin, love is a gift,” Patton sighs softly. “I think you taught me that.” 

Roman inhales sharply, he really doesn’t need to cry for the second time tonight. 

He’d been thinking “we need to sort out our own problems,” and hadn’t lingered on the thought that they’re solving each other’s problems without really trying. Patton is constantly teaching him how to care for someone without just throwing his body on the table and letting them have it, and he supposes he’s teaching Patton that love and sex are not what he’s been taught they are.

He holds out his hand for the other man to take, and he does. 

When they finally get back to their flat, Patton is shivering a little. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up!” Roman teases, wrapping his arms around Patton’s waist and then lifting him up with a little spin. The other man laughs, half-squealing as his skirt flies up. Roman places him back on the ground, going to push open the door to his room. He holds it open and bows a little. “My prince.” Patton giggles again, shaking his head, trust Roman to know how to keep him calm, to keep him happy. 

He bows in response “Your highness,” his grin still wide on his face as the door closes behind them. Roman’s smile doesn’t really fade as he leans down to kiss Patton again, that same, slow rhythmic kiss that has Patton’s legs feeling like they’re going to give out as he steps closer and closer. The dancer sits down on the edge of the bed and Patton sits in his lap like he had before, his knees on either side of Roman’s thighs. But it feels more intimate now, warmer, like he’s giving over a piece of his soul. The gentle hands rest on his back like he had previously and Patton leans down to kiss him again. Why does such a slow kiss burn? He presses into it, his eyes closed as he just focused on the sensation, then Roman pulls away a little. He studies his face for a second, before his hands slide down to Patton’s ass, watching his expression for any discomfort. The scrutiny just makes his cheeks flush and he bites his lip, eyes closing for just a moment. Then Roman squeezes gently and the softest sound ghosts his lips on his next exhale. “Are you okay?” the redhead asks. 

“I’m great,” Patton replies, truthfully. The feeling stops feeling so hot after a moment, it just becomes...like a massage, really. It’s gentle, it’s soothing. “You can try my thighs if you like?” 

“Over the dress?” He nods in response, Roman lowers his hands a little further and squeezes lightly at the upper-back of his thighs. That feeling again, his cock twitching in his underwear, his skin flushing, his own hands rest on his lap, and he grips the bottom of the skirt he’s wearing like it’s some sort of rope grounding him. Roman squeezes again and a little gasped breath hitches in his throat. “Are you still okay?” He is, he _really_ is. 

“Yes,” he manages out, his voice soft. Roman’s hands slide over to the side of his thighs, and there’s a tension that grows in Patton with the movement, his entire body screaming for him to not stop. But his mind can’t make that decision for him. Although Roman’s hands are still over his dress, he feels his body heat radiating off him like he’s on fire; Patton is so unused to being this close to _anyone_. 

Also when he touches his own body he never takes his time, Roman is not rushing and every movement is tenfold his own. Patton leans down to kiss him softly and he shivers as the other man’s hands run gently up his thighs, being careful not to drag the dress up with him. Then his hands are resting on his hips, his thumbs running down the side of Patton’s hip bones. The blond sighs against his lips at the sensation. “You’re all flushed,” Roman hums a little, looking up at him. There’s no panic in Patton, not from this, actually the movements are so nice that despite the tension between his legs and that gentle ache, he’s never felt so _relaxed_. He shifts around a little, moving their bodies closer together before he joins their lips again slowly. 

“Did you expect me to keep my cool?” Patton asks with a tinge of amusement once they've pulled away again. 

“Not even remotely.” One of Roman’s hands traces up his spinal cord and the way his body sinks into the touch, his eyes closing, is amazing even too him. Roman smiles, exhaling through his nose as his fingertips brush over the smaller man’s shoulder and down his arm to find the other’s hand, intertwining their fingers. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Very warm, and relaxed.” There’s a hint of surprise in his partner’s eyes, but it’s drowned in a sense of content and happiness that Patton is okay. More than okay, but actually feeling _good_. 

“Do you want me to keep going?” The other does not hesitate, only nods. Roman’s hand that is not intertwined with the other man’s traces up the side of his body, his fingertips brush over a spot in his side that makes his whole body sort of jolt, the movement sending mixed signals to his brain. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, but it makes him want to laugh despite how sensitive it is. The hand runs up to his collarbones, his fingertips tracing over the exposed collarbones. The contact to his skin has his head tilting back, a sound on his lips that’s some sort of relieved sigh. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m great.” Patton replies. 

“Are you minding having your skin touched?”

“Your hands are so nice.” _‘I want them all over me.’_ “You need to moisturise them more though.” Roman laughs shortly at this, before his hand returns to being over the top of the dress, trailing down his chest and stomach, before returning to his hip. “I think I’d be okay if you wanted to try...underneath the dress.” Roman hesitates a moment “Unless you want to stop, that's okay too.” 

“I don’t.” Roman sighs. “I don’t think I ever want to stop touching you...but can you just take a minute to ask if you’re really okay with that?” 

Patton thinks, he thinks about Roman’s hands on his skin and how it makes his veins heat up, he thinks about Roman’s hands on his thighs, touching all that sensitive skin. Just the thought makes that tension to grow. But would he be okay in the fallout? He supposes no more than less than any other time, but he can’t find any sadness or guilt or worry in his current emotions, not right now anyway. He’s getting better at managing that, not locking up his feelings but feeling them and understanding them...reasoning with them. 

He’s not always successful. But right now he feels... _fine._ Actually he feels hot and desperate mostly, but not sad at all. 

“Yeah, I’m okay with that, if it’s too much I’ll say.” Roman’s gaze lingers on studying his face, before he nods, resting his hands over the socks before sliding his hands up the side of Patton’s thighs. Such a simple touch should not drive one man crazy, but when Roman reaches the end of them, his fingertips touching the bare skin at the side of the other man’s leg, he whimpers. Not in lust, or sadness, but the sensation was...unlike anything he’d ever experienced. A burning that doesn’t hurt nor is pleasurable, it startles him. “Can you press a little harder? The touch is too light...it burns.” Roman does not entirely understand but he applies more pressure, lightly squeezing Patton’s thigh in his hand. 

He feels that squeeze with a whole new wave of pleasure. He barely registers that he is, in fact, hard. It floats around the back of his mind but he’s so focused on Roman’s hands that he just doesn’t care. “You can move further back,” he informs Roman, who is now staring fixated at his face for even one sign that he’s not okay. His hands squeeze the back of Patton’s thighs and this time he gasps out a quiet moan. 

Roman’s hands pull back like he’d been burned and he shakes his head. “I want to stop.” Patton nods, moving to clamber off Roman’s lap, to give him some space, but the dancer wraps his arms around him and buries his face in Patton’s chest. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Patton mutters. “I’m not upset.” 

“Still I’m…”

“No, please don’t be sorry, you’ve done nothing wrong, I’m not upset with you.” 

“I just don’t…” Roman’s breath hitches a little, he can’t figure out what to say, how to say it.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain, it’s okay.” He pauses. “Do you want to lie down...or do you want me to leave or…?”

“If you’re going to be lying down you should probably get that makeup off,” Roman mutters, leaning back finally. His eyes are red and watering. “Or if you want to get changed and come back, or if...if you just want to go that’s okay too.” Patton shakes his head. 

“I’ll go wash this off, I’ll just...borrow one of your shirts?” Roman is crying, and he doesn’t want to leave him when he’s crying. He doesn’t know _why_ Roman is crying, but this is a different guilt than he’s used too. Is this his fault? Did he push too hard? If only he’d just stopped Roman, or kept his stupid mouth shut. 

The redhead nods, leaning down to undo his boots and kick them off before he stands to head to the wardrobe. Patton hesitates, before disappearing into the bathroom. He feels like he scrubs his face for hours trying to remove the makeup. He undresses out of everything but the dress, struggling to reach the zipper on his back, twisting around himself as he tries to find it. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so tight around his hips and stomach, he wouldn’t be able to get it off without unzipping it unless he ended up stretching it...and this is the nicest, most expensive thing he owns. He doesn’t want to ruin it. He can’t ask Roman either. 

He sighs in frustration, stretching his arms out before trying again. A knock at the bathroom door startles him. “Uh...yeah?” It opens slowly, Roman is holding a very large shirt. 

“Are you okay?”

“I am, this dress isn’t going to be in a minute,” he laughs without humour, looking very tired. Roman exhales through his nose, placing the shirt down as his hands rest on Patton’s waist, guiding his back to face him. He undoes the zipper in one long, fluid motion and it slides down Patton’s shoulders a little. Roman catches his eyes in the mirror, the redhead bites his lip absently, as though the sight of Patton half-undressed in his bathroom was something out of the question in his life, and yet something he is very glad to see. 

“I’ll see you in a minute,” Roman uttered shortly, before he’s turning around and walking back out, closing the bathroom door behind him. The dress falls to the floor around Patton’s ankles and he steps out of it, pulling the shirt over his head. It’s Roman’s, and Roman is big. He’s tall, he’s broad, his chest could fit two of Patton in him. The shirt slips down his shoulder, and it’s a very domestic sort of look. 

He picks his clothes up off the floor and carries them back to the bedroom, placing them on the desk before he sits down on the bed next to the other man. “Are you okay?” 

“I panicked,” Roman muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong, but if it eases your mind then I forgive you, you’re absolved of your worries.” 

“Is that how the Church works?” The dancer replies softly, a teasing but no longer upset lilt to his tone. 

“Basically, yes.” He takes Roman’s hand in his own. He hadn’t even really considered that it would be the other man that panicked first. “Do you want to...talk about it? Is there a reason you panicked?” 

The redhead exhales shakily, shaking his head as he slides up the bed and leans back against the pillows, Patton curls up beside him, but finds he’s suddenly very afraid of their bodies touching at all. “I used to say yes a lot.” Roman mutters. “’Are you okay Roman?’ ‘Yeah I’m fine,’ and I’d put on this smile and everything is okay but inside I just felt like I’m dying.” His breathing trembles. “And I never thought I’d be the one in charge, you know? So I just got scared, because you kept saying you’re okay but a week ago you said you didn’t want to have sex and then you moaned and I felt like someone poured ice over me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispers. 

“If I don’t get to say sorry neither do you.” He chuckles dryly, looking exhausted. “It’s not your fault I’m fucked up either, and don’t apologise for having normal reactions I don’t want you to think you have to hide behind your own responses that’s...the exact opposite of what I want to be honest.” He shakes his head. “It just made me panic because I couldn’t really tell if it’s what you wanted.” 

“You’d know if it wasn’t what I wanted.” Patton mutters. “I’ve grown very good at crying everytime something so much as mildly startles me lately.” 

“Do you want to talk about that?” 

The blonde shakes his head tiredly. “I just want to know if it’s okay to kiss you.” Roman slides down the bed a little bit, leaning over the smaller man to kiss him softly, their lips parting against each other in a very soothing kiss. 

“For the record…” The taller mutters, pressing another brief kiss to Patton’s lips before he leans back “...you make some very pretty noises.” 

“So do you,” Patton replies, without really thinking. 

“...How do you know that?” He looks like he’s thinking over every interaction they’ve ever had and Patton wants to drown in the blankets and die when his gaze falls on the other again. “What?” Roman’s eyebrows furrow as he takes in the mortified expression on his boyfriend’s face. 

“Uh...I was speaking metaphorically? Uh...like...um…” he trails off, and the other would laugh if he wasn’t so confused. “It’s a long story?” 

“Oh I have got to hear every second.” Patton whines and rolls over on his other side to be away from the excruciating gaze. Roman’s fingertips dig gently against his ribs, making him jolt and yelp in surprise. “What is it?” 

“It’s...nothing,” Roman raises an eyebrow. “Well it’s not like you’re...really _really_ quiet?” 

“Did you listen to me jacking off?” 

“Oh _why_ did you have to say it like _that?_ ” 

“You did!” Patton buries his face in his hands. “Was it good?” The other man sputters a little, various noises that are all high pitched and embarrassed leaving his lips. “Pat you don’t have to be embarrassed, I’m not upset, I’m just incredibly curious.” 

“It was…” _‘great, amazing, wonderful, first time I’ve ever touched myself in my life, for days afterwards all I could think about was this image of you, on your bed, touching yourself.’_ “...nice?” Roman laughs, lying back down against the pillow and looking up at the ceiling. “It was on my mind a lot.” 

“How long did you stay there?” Patton’s cheeks flush even further, his eyes closing briefly. 

“It felt like I couldn’t move really, I couldn’t stop listening.” he whispers, Roman’s face softens a little. “You said my name.” ‘ _And the way you said it too, I’d never felt so pure or corrupted in my life, it was like my entire body was struck by lightning.’_ “Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too, it can’t have been easy to...hear that.” 

“It was the easiest five minutes of my life,” he admits, “...the thirty minutes following it not so much.” 

“Did you…?”

“Oh my God,” he closes his eyes and forces out a strangled “Yes, for the first time in my life.” he feels embarrassed, mortified that he’s admitting that, his stomach flips like he’s about to be sick. “Can we stop talking about it now?” He forces his eyes to meet Roman’s and is taken aback by the heat residing in him. He’s staring at Patton in a way that is both full of care and full of...desire. He can practically see the way his mind turns over inside him, he can almost see his thoughts from the way his tongue darts out over dry lips or the grip he suddenly has on the blanket underneath him.”What are you thinking about?”

“You.” He clears his throat. “We should sleep.” 

Patton’s stomach churns, but he nods. “Sleep, yeah.” Roman pulls the blankets over them. Patton does not cuddle up to Roman. For a long moment he just doesn’t know if he can trust himself to touch the other’s skin at all. He’s not sure how much restraint either of them have to not break down that little boundary that is actually quite large. 

For a moment, all his brain can think about is the sound of Roman’s moans and his hands on his skin. 

\--

Whilst he’s asleep, those thoughts don’t leave, in fact they’re so unrestrained that he has no control over it. His waking mind is filtered and controlled, but the depths of sleep have no such thing as guilt or worry or pain. All those thoughts come with sensations, he can feel the hands on his thighs and the body underneath his own. A version of himself that doesn’t know how to be flustered grinding down against his boyfriend.

\--

Patton wakes up early the next morning. He wakes up feeling hot, his body tingling, and the space between his legs feeling like he’s tingling. He sits up in bed as his hand dips under the quilt for a moment, eyes going wide as he tugs the shirt over his knees. He carefully climbs over Roman’s body, sliding out of the other’s room and crossing over to his own, his cheeks flushed as he tries not to focus on the damp in his underwear. 

What a time to get your first wet dream. 


	13. Week 13: Tether Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus reflects on his life so far and confronts a truth; Logan comes out with his own.

Remus is an incredibly impatient person. His entire existence is founded in a complete inability to sit still so he’s often fidgety not just physically but emotionally too. He was fifteen when he put two and two together and figured out he was not monogamous. Roman had sighed at him and told him that makes a lot of sense for him, but it’s not a life Roman could have; between the two of them, there are _so_ many differences for people who are almost identical. **  
**

When they’d been children people could not tell them apart, two round-faced, freckled redheads that were always happy, always laughing, always smiling. They’d get all sorts of stereotypical names that you give brothers, like the “troublesome two.” When they were kids life seemed that much easier, where causing trouble is just boys being boys, just kids being kids.

As they’d got older that changed drastically. 

Remus was the first to figure out his sexuality, he didn’t really think much of it really, he just had a crush on a boy. He was ten years old when he came back from school to excitedly tell his mother that he loves someone, someone who isn’t Roman or his parents. She had told him to keep his voice down and not tell anyone, she told him that it’s not right, and she told him under no circumstances is he to tell his father. 

He didn’t. 

But he did tell Roman because Roman was the other half of him, and at the time it was as though they were two halves of a whole, never apart and always the best of friends. Roman nodded a little and shrugged. “That’s okay, I don’t like anyone yet.” He was the only person who made Remus feel normal about it. 

At twelve, Remus got into a fight with a boy over next to nothing, just a word. But it was the start of something worse than that, it unlocked something in his he hadn’t known he had. All that rage at his parents for forcing him to keep quiet, it all came out of his fists that day. And it never stopped coming out. 

It isn’t until it’s his father he has to fight that the rage really kicks in. 

Remus has always been restless, his entire personality is founded in a complete inability to sit still because if he sits still too long his anger starts to take over. He’d rather be too sexual, too high, too broken than being angry. 

Roman figured out his sexuality around sixteen and there was a descending feeling of _“oh fuck”_ the moment he tells Remus. Because it’s not just one secret then, it’s two, it’s two people in a house with parents that cannot stand them. How they’d kill to be children again, start anew, start afresh. 

Remus was always braver than his brother, so he tests the water for him, he tells his mother, he tells his father. He almost ends up in hospital and Roman had never screamed so much as he did that night. Roman always said he had it worse, but the pain was nothing to him, it was almost welcome to the apathy he’d started to feel dwelling inside of him; but his brother’s face was the most agonising of it all, the way he’d shouted as if all that pain was his own. 

The next day when Remus walks into school with a black eye and bruised nose and a cut-up lip, he tells the truth. The two end up in a hostel for a little while whilst Roman scrapes out his bank account for some money. He gets a better job, somehow makes it through high school and then the two are living together, alone for a while. 

Sometimes when Roman looks at Remus, the other twin can see and tell that he’s seeing that moment, the bruises, hearing his cries of agony. And he worries that when his brother looks at Patton he sees that too; and Patton does not deserve that, he deserves to be his whole person and not someone Roman has to _save_.

But the truth is Roman is restless too, but it’s not anger that he’s running away from, it’s everything that followed that day. It’s the drugs he did, and the men he had sex with, it’s the chasing of broken emotions that fuelled him. He searched for someone to validate him in the worst possible way. Saying yes when he often means no.

And they did _not_ help each other. 

Roman would become frustrated with Remus’ need to punch people, and walls and occasionally himself, he’d lose his patience plucking razor blades from his room. Because he was seventeen years old and he was not ready to be a father, but he had to be, despite the depression that weighed on himself too his only options were to help Remus or let him kill himself. 

And Remus never even tried. He knew what Roman was doing, the validation and emotions he was seeking, the danger he would put himself in. He’d be a hypocrite to try and argue that his brother looked after himself, not when he’s incapable of doing that for himself.

Remus never really had a chance to heal from that, but he made a promise that university would be a time he at least tried. He thinks he’s getting somewhere when Logan’s fingertips trace the healed scars on his arms with no pity or sympathy, but a sense of comfort, of understanding. When he kisses him and he doesn’t feel this gnawing need for his partner to hurt him, or fuck him, but just exist with him. 

The therapy helps too, he has no doubt that Emile will end up being a licensed therapist because he is damn good at what he does. He listens, he talks, he makes Remus feel like a person and not a problem. He talks about so much too, he gives his life story, he expresses that he’s scared of being loved, he knows that Roman is hurting and he doesn’t know how to help and the urge to self-harm will never really go away. 

Emile takes all of this in and filters it through, he teaches him coping mechanisms, he talks him through how to ask people for help and how to let them know he can help them. He listens to Remus talk about his week and smiles when he smiles; there’s no pity in him either, he’s just there to help him, not mourn with him and somehow for Remus that is...wonderful. He already did that, he already lost his childhood and that is agonising. He doesn’t need more people feeling sorry for him, he just needs someone to give him a light so he can figure his way out of the dark. 

He has that, at least, a light. Logan.

He doesn’t know what it’s going to take to admit that truth to the other man, who can’t seem to decide if they’re lovers or friends, or something between the two. That’s okay, Remus thinks, they’re young, they have their entire lives to put a label on things. Which is a thought that jolts him to sitting upright in his bed. 

His entire life. 

He has his _entire_ life ahead of him. 

He feels a little winded as that thought digests, when had he started to see himself as someone who gets to live? When did that happen? How long ago had it been that he’d considered himself to have a future? 

_He has a future._

He flops back on his bed and takes a heaving breath in, his lips tugging into a smile, and then he laughs gently. What a thought to think. He’s going to finish his degree and he’s going to have a future, preferably not at McDonalds because he’s already getting tired of working there and resisting the urge to kill customers is hard enough. 

_But_ he _has_ a future. 

\--

Logan knocks on Remus’ door at around nine in the evening on a Friday evening, he’s tired and he’s had a long day but he’d submitted his work for his current deadline and was very much eager for a cuddle. 

Remus opens it, he looks different. It takes Logan a long minute before his eyebrows dart up into his hairline. “You look nice,” he whispers, his eyes staring. 

“Thanks,” Remus grins, “Emile took me to get it.” Logan’s hand raises a little and then drops by his side. “Sorry all your boyfriends are getting surprise piercings and tattoos on you.” Logan wants to trace the tattoo with his tongue, but he’s fairly certain it needs time to heal. It’s just under Remus’ collarbone, black ink stark against his skin. “Why birds?” 

“I think I figured out how to get out of the cage,” he smiles back, and Logan’s breath hitches a little, looking up at his partner, or friend, or whatever it is. 

He loves him. _He loves him._ _**He loves him.**_

He loves that tattoo too, birds, flying across the skin under his collarbone. Logan loves Remus, and he loves that tattoo, and he can’t concentrate when the other man is shirtless by any degree. 

“I love you,” he blurts out, because the silence was going on too long and he didn’t know what else he could say, it’s all he can think for a moment. It’s been like that for at least a week now, that being the only thing he can think at strange intervals like Remus laughing too hard, or spilling a glass of water or getting excited over something odd. He presses his hand over his own mouth when he blurts it out, he’s sure he should’ve thought longer about saying that, should’ve put more thought into his words. 

“Neat,” Remus replies, voice hoarse and catching in his throat. “I…” he takes a deep breath in, his cheeks flushing, Logan takes a step back, panicking, but Remus catches his wrist and tugs him into the room. “I love you too, nerd.” Logan’s back thuds against the closed bedroom door, his lips parting for the kiss that presses him into the wood. His whole body feels hot, his hands fumbling to grip Remus’ waist. 

Their lips slide together messily, frantically, moaning into each other’s mouths with the desperation to taste those words. Love. Logan’s nails scratch at Remus’ skin accidentally, he’s just holding on so hard as if trying to anchor himself in a present that is definitely happening and is not a dream. 

Remus has an entire life to live. 

He’s fairly certain, at this point in time, he’d _really_ like to live it with Logan. 

The first person who loved him by choice and not out of obligation, or guilt. 

Logan’s hands push him towards the bed, their bodies barely stop touching in the process between the door and Remus’ hands tangling in Logan’s grip against the bedsheets. He doesn’t want to stop touching him, he doesn’t want to ever stop touching him. Remus is fairly certain he’d lose his mind if their lips so much as parted from each other, maybe he’d die, maybe his heart would stop beating if he didn’t keep pulling the air from Logan’s lungs. His feelings are a mess, his hormones even more so, fuck he feels so much...so much more than he’d thought himself able too, none of it sad, all of it _euphoria_. 

All those emotions are prised from Logan’s teeth and tongue and hands on his body. 

He can’t stop touching Logan, not even when they’re just tugging clothes off of each other’s bodies, he doesn’t want for a second to stop touching him. Perhaps love is a drug or an addiction, maybe Logan himself is some strange form of ecstasy that he has no choice but to crave on a biological level. 

When they’re both out of their clothes, their bodies move against each other in a push and pull oddly reminiscent of the way the sea waves; Remus has never been so aware of another person’s body before, even though he’s been in this situation so many times, he’s never really focused so hard that he can feel Logan’s skin against his own. His body is soft, it’s weight and pressure makes Remus feel somewhat delicate, cared for, his hands pressed into the pillows and pinned there. It should be restraining, but he just feels like he’s home. 

Logan’s hips are pressed to his own, gasping into his lips as their lengths grind together. Heat, soft skin, breathless, _‘iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou’._

He does. 

His heart aches with his entire body as his body caves to Logan’s touch, his cheeks flushed, his eyes screwed shut, he jerks and jolts and squeezes his hands and cries out the other man’s name. Logan kisses him like he knows he’s so far from his own self that he’s promising he’s okay, that he’s got him. Remus believes that kiss too. 

Logan’s mess stains his skin with his own but neither can care, Logan’s hands do not let go of his own, Remus doesn’t want him too, doesn’t want him to move or leave ever. Ever again. Just stay here in this endless eternity where his body aches and his heart...oh he has _no_ idea what his heart is doing, pounding in his chest. But not because of the orgasm, not because of the arousal. He’s loved. He’s loved and he has an entire future. 

Remus gets to _live._


	14. Week 14: I Can't Go on Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman talks about his past, Patton talks about his.

In the evening, Patton had grown accustomed to interrupting whatever it is Roman is doing and making himself part of what’s left of the night. This is mainly because his days are _far_ too long and he’s stuck in that wonderful part of a relationship where he _cannot_ stop thinking about his partner. So he’ll drag himself, around six in the evening, into the other man’s room and make his existence Roman’s problem. **  
**

Roman, by the way, is ecstatic with _that_ development. 

In their time together they often just talk, because they love listening to each other, love hearing their complaints about the day and also what went right for them. There’s a lot of kissing too; sometimes Patton has to catch a negative thought as to be expected, and Roman is always patient with him as he takes a minute to go through the things he’d learned, what he’d read, what Emile had told him, what he’d been educated on.

Neither of them are expecting him to be able to overcome that in the space of a few weeks. 

The thing is though, the most rational argument Patton has is that he _loves_ Roman. He loves the way he tastes and the way his body feels against his own, he loves the way his heart beats under his fingertips, how addictive that is. 

He loves Roman, and love isn’t a sin. Also he’d learned from a book Emile had given him that the sin of lust is not even the sin that’s described, lust as a sin is when it is used to harm other people. And with that information in mind Patton is finding it a _lot_ easier to adjust to his new life; he thinks that like being gay wasn’t always his life, but being gay for and with Roman... _that’s_ the new chapter at least. 

This evening the two are on the bed eating pancakes that Patton made. “My mother showed me how to cook, much to my father’s chagrin,” he laughs softly, but there’s a lingering sadness in his eyes. “He said it’s a woman’s jobs, I asked him if men who live alone should then starve, he hit me for it but...it was worth the tiny smile it gave my mother, I think it must’ve been one of the few times I ever stood up to him.” He rolls up a pancake and takes a bite out of the end, syrup drips onto the plate. 

“I bet it was amazing to watch too,” the blond’s cheeks flush a little at the grin these words are offered with, he shrugs as he recalls the memory, he’d been shaking the entire time; he remembers it like it was yesterday though. “I’m sorry that bastard is even still alive.” 

“Me too,” Patton admits, taking a deep breath inwards. “Not because he hurt me, but because he hurt my mother, he hurt her so often I thought that must be how love is...maybe that’s why I’m gay, because I couldn’t hurt someone...I don’t understand what relief it’s _supposed_ to bring.” 

“There’s no reason to it Patton, people don’t learn to be gay because of certain attitudes or stereotypes, but people definitely learn to be aggressive because of their environments, the two are not opposite spectrums.” 

The curly-haired man feels his face soften, he had been joking but he understands the lesson Roman is trying to impart. Stereotypes can be so harmful, and ones like that tend to end up with people getting hurt. “I know.” It’s all he can think to say. “...Sorry.” 

“Don’t be, I’m not upset with you, I just feel like a lot of people in the gay community like to pretend it doesn’t exist, abuse that is, the truth is I’ve met at least five, fucked most of them too.” He laughs, but he just sounds drained and exhausted. Patton would love to know what he’s thinking about at that moment because for a second his gaze seems different, _distant_. Then he looks down at his plate and takes a bite out of his pancake. 

“Do you...wanna talk about it?” Patton asks, eventually, the redhead pauses halfway through chewing his food. He wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand and avoids the gaze his partner is giving him for a moment. Roman sighs, a heavy one and leans back against the wall; he should, he should talk about it, he talks about it to Emile but...talking to Patton about it means removing that little wall where he pretends _he’s_ the strong one. 

“You’ve probably got enough on your plate.”

“There’s no world where my plate would be too full for your input.” The other man inhales sharply in response, his cheeks flushing a little, his eyes close for a second and he abandons what’s left of his pancake for a moment. 

“After me and Remus got our own place, I was stressed a lot, I was dealing with his issues, I was dealing with my own, and being in a hostel was not much fun for either of us.” He opens his eyes, and meets Patton’s, there’s this look in him that is nothing that the smaller man has seen before. It’s glassy-eyed and watery and scared. “But we got our own place and it digested that I didn’t have parents anymore, and the only other person I had was a brother that I had to keep stopping from hurting himself, and other people.” His throat closes up and he can feel his eyes watering, he sniffles a little and swallows the lump forming in his throat. 

“I love Remus to bits, he’s my brother and I don’t just love him for that fact either, but I was seventeen-years-old and I had to raise him, I had to make sure he didn’t kill himself, I had to be his dad and mine, I mean what the _fuck_ was I supposed to do? I’d never felt so alone in my life.” Tears catch on his eyelashes and drip down over his reddened, puffy cheeks. He takes a shuddering breath into lungs that feel like they’re trying to close up. “I met a guy, he seemed wonderful, he always spoke like he cared, he told me he loved me, that he’d do anything for me. I was seventeen and desperate for absolutely any adult in my life to tell me that; I fucked him, he fucked off, but he gave me a taste for something that finally made me feel like I had some worth... _finally_ something I was good at.” 

Patton seems to take as big of a breath as he himself did, leaving his plate on the bed and shuffling closer. He rests his head on Roman’s shoulder, pressing a kiss over his shirt to the spot just above his collarbone. 

“So I just kept going, they were all older men, some in their late thirties, it was like a game of pass the parcel but _I_ was the prize; some of them even paid me, some of them gave me drugs.” He exhales shakily, bringing his sleeves up to wipe his eyes, he shakes his head a little. “They always told me how good I was and how good I made them feel, and afterwards I just...I didn’t feel good, I felt sick, but it was the only time anyone would ever say I’m _good_ at something.” He wraps an arm around Patton, and the other man wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, squeezing gently. Roman pressed a kiss to the top of his head, burying his face in his hair and just...breathing. Because he _can_ , because he’d lived long enough to do so. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Patton asks after a moment of silence, Roman shakes his head. 

“Unfortunately I’m the one that has to do the hard work, but having you here is nice enough.” Patton leans up and gives him a warm but teary smile, his hand reaching up the one around him to intertwine their fingertips for a moment. “Thank you for listening though,” he adds, with a sincere tone, wiping his eyes again and chuckling wetly. “Fuck, I never thought I’d talk to anyone about that, I don’t think I’ve ever really spoken to Remus about it, but congrats you’re now the second person to hold this knowledge.”

“I wish I’d had that privilege,” Patton winces a little. “Sorry I didn’t mean it like…”

“No, I know, it can’t have been easy to have everyone crowding you like that.” 

“I don’t mean that,” Patton shakes his head. “It wasn’t always in private, sometimes he’d just hit me in public, hard too, he’d have me crying my eyes out.” He shifts a little, swallowing dryly. “Sorry, we were talking about you, I didn’t mean too...divert the attention.”

“It’s okay, I’ve said my piece, you’re free to talk about your problems too darling.” Patton’s cheeks flush a little at the pet name, shrugging. “Seriously, it’s okay, I want you to talk about your problems just as much as you want me to talk about mine, it’s nice to know you trust me enough.” 

“I know, but I’ve already said everything, I don’t really know what else there is to say, I think I’ve accepted it wasn’t my fault, but every now and then...I do catch myself thinking that it is, I’m getting better at processing it though, Emile keeps giving me books to read and that’s nice, I didn’t really have phones and laptops and all that because my father...was just like _that_ , but I read a lot, I was slow to learn to read when I was a child, but I got better thanks to my mother; and then I just couldn’t stop reading! I love books, and the information ones are really interesting.” 

“I’m glad you enjoy them.” Patton smiles up at him, and Roman thinks just for a second all the air rocks out of his body with that smile. He’s so pretty, he doesn’t know how anyone that _beautiful_ finds themself to be his company, let alone view him as someone lovable. But he supposes that’s the point Patton was making, wasn’t it? The way they view themselves are products of their pasts, and neither of their pasts have been something pleasant, so it stands to reason every now and then they’d need to correct how they see themselves. 

They both finish off their pancakes, Patton slides off the bed to carry them over to Roman’s desk, resting them on top. He turns around and leans against the desk for a moment, just looking at Roman as the other sucks syrup off his fingers unnecessarily slowly. His eyes track the movements and he has to remind himself to calm down because his heart starts hammering in his chest. He doesn’t really know why every little thing sets him off; he talked to Emile about it and he’d just said that’s fairly normal for someone who is just getting in touch with their hormones. 

Roman’s eyes meet his own, lips still wrapped around the tip of his finger, cheeks hollowed out around it. Patton’s cheeks flush as he tears his eyes away, avoiding the grin on Roman’s face. “You’re so _easy,_ ” he snorts, patting his thighs. “Come and kiss me?” Patton rolls his eyes and clambers into his lap, leaning down to kiss the other. He tastes like syrup and pancakes, pancakes he’d made. 

Surely _that_ should not make him feel so warm all over?

But the weight of what Roman had just told him has him pulling away a little, the redhead’s eyebrows furrow as he looks up at his partner. “What’s wrong?” 

“Sorry I just...I don’t want to...I don’t want to be someone who hurts you?” He didn’t mean to ask that, it was supposed to be a statement. “And I don’t want you to feel pressured or... _worse_ ,” he adds, with a much stronger and more confident tone, he meets Roman’s eyes and the other smiles softly back, his eyebrows raising as he sighs, bringing a hand up to brush Patton’s hair out of his eyes. 

“I know.” He shakes his head. “Patton, in the nicest way possible, you are not really capable of hurting me, or anyone like _that_.” The other feels relief roll over him, his shoulders relaxing. “Believe me when I say if I ever have sex with you I will know entirely that you’re not going to up and leave, or hurt me in any way, during or after.” Patton smiles back, his hands finding the other man’s. “Plus, I know you tend to say what you want or need, but you give me the control too, it’s not a situation where I don’t think I can’t say no.” His smile turns mischevious for a second as his eyes trail over Patton’s thin arms “Also you weight less than 50kgs, I don’t think pinning people down and being rough is your forte.” 

“Hey I could be strong!” Patton replies indignantly, which is complete with a small pout. Roman wraps his whole hand around Patton’s wrists and holds them up, quirking his eyebrow. “Okay, point proven, I have the upper body strength of an newborn baby fawn.” 

“Strangely specific, but apt.” Roman chuckles softly. “Everything that we’ve done thus far I’ve enjoyed, even if I’ve had to stop, even if you’ve had to stop, I wouldn’t keep trying if I didn’t enjoy it and if you didn’t too.” 

  
Since the first time, they’d tried that same process a few times over the past two weeks, Roman’s hands sliding up his body, trying to help him understand what feels good. Each time he gets a little further, them both becoming accustomed to the sensations of touching someone, and being touched by someone in a way that is entirely consensual and with the trust that the second it’s no longer enjoyable for either of them they can stop.

But Patton, he realises, had always been on the receiving end, letting Roman explore his body. 

“Do you want me to try?” He asks suddenly. “What we’ve been doing, you’re always touching me, do you want...me to try?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes, I just...I didn’t even realise that I hadn’t, that seems a little selfish.” 

“Well, I know my body fairly well, you don’t, I just assumed either you weren’t ready for that or...well, the principle was helping you understand what feels pleasurable.” 

“I want too, I...want to touch you too, that’s half of it isn’t it? Touching each other?” He asks so shyly, his freckled cheeks so flushed as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth. Roman smiles comfortingly and nods. “Okay then, I want to try.” He pauses and shakes his head. “But not today, I just want to cuddle today.” His partner catches his hand and presses a light kiss to his knuckles; the simple action makes his cheeks heat furiously but he has no mind to be upset about that, returning the gesture with a small, shy smile. 

Patton slides off of Roman’s lap and peels back the bedsheets, sliding into them with his hands outstretched, grinning; the redhead loves that Patton can be childish sometimes, some people would find it annoying but it’s nice to know despite how much of his childhood was lost to people who didn’t know how to love, he still has that essence in him that is... _adorable_. Childlike. It’s comforting to know that despite everything either of them went through the capability to be themselves is still there. 

Roman often feels like without all that pain, all those decisions he made that he regrets, he is nothing at all. That his entire being is just those memories. But lately he’s starting to see what he can be on top of that; not without, it happened and it’s a part of him and his history, there is no world in which he is who he is without that. The goal is not to forget, it’s know he’s worth something _including_ that. 

Patton helps that, when he smiles and listens to him talk and looks at him like the entire world revolves around him. It’s the respect in his eyes, the calmness in the sadness, it’s the way that despite everything he’d known himself to be, Patton does not and _can_ _not_ judge him. Nor does he _want_ too. 

_He loves him._

Roman had said it takes time to fall in love, but when he’d said it he never really thought of himself as someone who could love or be loved. Inevitably, he’d assumed that both he and Remus would fall back into old patterns even once they were trying. Maybe there will be times where they do fall back into old patterns; Roman doesn’t know, not for himself or Remus but he does know that Patton touches his skin with far too much reverence and hesitance for him to ever confuse the other with a tool of abuse. 

Patton is just, unmistakably, very good for him, somehow. 

Even though every time their bodies touch Roman feels so very _hot_ , he can’t deny that the physical desire is there, and emotionally too he _wants_ Patton. This is new territory for him but that’s good; it’s good that he gets to learn that sort of thing, how to put his feelings first. How to know he’s ready before he throws himself headfirst into this. 

_He’s never been ready._

The first time he kissed Patton with all that desire, all that want and need, it was the first time he’d ever kissed like that; he knows when the time comes that the first time he feels those hands on his body in a way that he’s known so many times, it will still be different. He’ll want it without a doubt. 

He curls up against his partner, Patton’s arm around his waist, his body tucked up against Roman’s. He can feel the smaller man’s breath against his neck and it feels so warm, so alive. He feels so _alive_. He buries his face in the blonde curls that are really starting to get long now and presses a kiss to the crown of Patton’s head. 

For Patton that feels like a blessing. 

They fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms and legs and bodies. Getting used to the sensation of being pressed against each other in a way that is more innocent than not. Even if both of them have the passing thought, even if Patton thinks about Roman’s hands a little too hard and Roman imagines Patton’s breath a little firmer on his skin. They’re not ready, they think, trying not to cave. 

Truth is, neither of them know what they’re ready for. They probably never will. There’s no epiphany moment in these situations where you just know, that sort of thing does not exist in real life. You just keep trying until you find your feet and plant them firmly in the ground. 


	15. Week 15: Like Real People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There isn't really a time frame for 'ready'

**_Monday_ **

“I want to talk about something,” the words leave Patton’s mouth so firmly that he shocks himself with his own confidence. He’s stood with his back against Roman’s door whilst the dancer looks up from the plates he’s just about setting down carefully on the bed, (trying to make sure the contents do not get knocked all over his covers) the apparent routine they have, to be followed up by a film on Netflix for the two of them. He looks up attentively, his back straightening out at the commanding tone that he’s not quite used to coming out of the other man. “I want to…” Patton swallows dryly. “I want to talk about sex.” Again, the firmness is unexpected, and Roman’s eyebrows raise. 

“Uh...okay.” The redhead replies with far less conviction, feeling like his entire brain is melting just from the tone the other man is using. It doesn’t sound like Patton, it sounds so firm and confident, which he’s sure is to some degree false. “Then, by all means, let’s talk, but you don’t have to stand up to do it.” He gives a small and slightly weak smile that is received by a nod and a relieved exhale before Patton steps further into the room; Roman places his laptop down on the chair but doesn’t play the movie just yet. They both pick up their plates and sit down on the bed. 

For a moment, the blond just stares firmly straight ahead, gathering his courage. Roman notices his hands are shaking but doesn’t call attention to it, instead he turns to look up at his partner’s face. “I’m all ears,” he encourages quietly. 

Patton nods, biting his lip. “I…” he clears his throat a little “...I’ve been spending a lot of nights here now, and that’s okay, that’s good  _ I love it _ but...I...uh…” ‘ _ Just talk honestly, be communicative,’ _ he can hear a voice that sounds strangely like Emile at the back of his head. “I keep waking up feeling very hot and sometimes…” he bites his lip again, gesturing with his head as if he’s hoping Roman will get the message. 

“And sometimes…?” Roman repeats back to him, demonstrating that he is not, in fact, a mind reader. 

“If I say  _ wet _ will you laugh at me?” Patton mumbles, the confidence slipping. 

“Oh! You’re having wet dreams?” There’s no tact or embarrassment in this man, he swears to  _ God _ . “Well that’s fine, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be emba-” 

“Yes, but I specifically only have them when I’m sleeping with you.” Patton rushes out quickly. “And the point is I can keep  _ trying _ to run away and pretend that it’s not happening but it’s frustrating me and driving me up the damn wall and I just want…” he takes a deep breath inwards, his whole body shaking with the forcefulness of the exhale. “...I want to try something more, it’s my understanding that these things come in stages, and...I think I’m ready too, if you are, if you want too that is...to at least  _ try? _ And then if I want to stop or I don’t like it I can say stop, right?” 

Roman goes very quiet for a moment, staring at his plate. “Are you sure?” he asks finally, Patton nods. “Are you  _ really  _ sure?” 

“I am, it’s all I’ve been able to think about since the first time you touched me...well, I’m fairly certain I’ve been thinking about it since I  _ met  _ you, actually.” He gives a sheepish sort of smile. “Now though, I actually have some control over my thoughts a-and I  _ trust _ you, I trust you to stop if it’s too much for me, but I’ve gotten used to thinking about it, that doesn’t scare me so much, and now I’m used to uh…” he clears his throat a little again, his cheeks heating up the more he rambles, barely pausing for a breath “...touching myself, so I think I’m ready to try more; because it’s  _ alway _ s scary at first but then it stops once I get used to it so I think the next step is that.” 

“Okay,” Roman says simply, picking up his fork. “Then we can give it a try,” then he just eats, like the conversation isn’t the biggest one they’ve had in their relationship; internally he’s  _ screaming _ , he’s a little terrified but  _ overwhelmingly  _ excited. “I have one condition; you tell me immediately if something’s wrong, and we take it slowly, I don’t want to try too much at once.” 

He says this like his mind hasn’t spent a good seven or so weeks thinking about what that would be like, what Patton would be or feel like. 

But this is a one-step-at-a-time situation, they both need it to be one foot in front of the other, not an avalanche at once.

“I will,” Patton meets his eyes with a small smile that looks far more excited and nervous than Roman is used to seeing on his face.

“Do you want to...set a date or time or?” 

“I’m not that awkward,” he laughs softly, turning back to the meal that is getting far too cold to be comfortable digesting. “Let’s just let it come naturally.” 

**_Tuesday_ **

The next morning comes and goes. Although Patton wakes up feeling flushed and a little too hot, he has classes to get through, so he presses a kiss to Roman’s forehead and says he’ll see him later. He doesn’t want it to be rushed, the experience that is, but he takes no qualms stepping under the hot water of his own shower, resting his head against the wall. 

He’s getting quite used to waking up feeling a little too hot, and very much hard. Especially once he started sleeping in Roman’s bed, he’s not entirely sure why he thought it wouldn’t have an effect on him at all, but he knows it’s normal. He hadn’t so much as a hug for years so the physical contact (no matter how small) drives him insane emotionally and sexually.

He thinks about Roman touching him a lot lately, too, but quite like the masturbation, the more the thoughts came the less they distressed him. He indulges them, thinking of Roman’s hands on the back of his thighs, squeezing. He thinks about the way his hips had jolted then, imagining the hands had drifted to his growing arousal. Patton thinks about that, now, in the shower, his breath fogging up the glass cubicle with the steam.

Sometimes, he gets bad thoughts too, Emile said that’s normal and natural and the key is  _ not _ to push the thoughts away but to let them be there, and reason with them. Forcing the thoughts out just makes them come back stronger, and that can make recovering from his upbringing harder in the long run. 

But this time around there’s no bad thoughts, there’s just him panting under the hot water of the shower until his legs shake and he has to hold himself up a little, hips jerking into his own touch as he moans out Roman’s name with his whole chest. 

He loves how Roman’s name sounds on his tongue when he says it like that. This must be the third or so time now. It sounds different, heavier, somehow more... _ reverent. _

When he steps out of the shower and looks at himself in the mirror, he almost doesn’t recognise his own face; he doesn’t know why at first, but then he understands it’s because he’s smiling. 

**_Wednesday_ **

Roman went shopping in the morning, apparently in desperate need of some new clothes. He went with Virgil, on the pure coincidence that the two needed to go into town and figured they may as well have some company. Patton spends the majority of the day trying to figure out if there’s a certain way to act during sex. 

The curly-haired boy is thinking about it as he pushes food around his plate in the kitchen, Janus is cooking and talking about something, but when they fall into silence (bar the sound of food being scraped out of the pan) all the bubbling insecurities fall out of him.

He blurts out that question to Janus: “Is there a certain way to act during sex?” The other man had already told him if he has questions he’s welcome to ask before, both he and Virgil had, and somehow Patton doesn’t think Logan can help with this one.

The blond had laughed, not unkindly, just amused by the way he’d asked. “Roman would want you to be you, no more or less, besides, if sex was a performance no-one would  _ ever _ want to do it.” He’d sat up on the breakfast bar and narrowed his eyes a little, studying Patton’s face. “It’s a bit fast, you’ve only been together...five weeks? Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I don’t know,” Patton shrugs truthfully. “I just know it’s what I want and I feel like I’m going to go insane if I don’t have it, it’s also not like I can’t say no if I change my mind.” 

The other man hums a little bit, sighing. “Will you know when you want to say no, though?” Patton’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Sometimes it’s not always easy to tell, for some people who often have confusing and conflicting emotions and that’s been their norm, it can be harder to tell.” 

“I can  _ usually  _ tell when something is wrong.” 

“And do you manage it?” The curly-haired man nods, he does, he knows how to manage the bad thoughts and the good thoughts too and how to untangle them from each other. “Good, next question is do you have any idea what the  _ fuck _ you’re doing?  _ Have _ you set boundaries?  _ Educated _ yourself?” Patton’s mouth opens and closes again. “ _ Oh for fuck’s sake _ , come on church kid, let’s get you an education.” 

Which is how he ended up sat on Janus’ bed, eyebrows furrowed as he reads a computer screen. “That’s how  _ that _ works?” He whispers, eyes wide. The other man, cracking open a can of cider with a sigh, gives an amused smile and takes a drink. “Okay, so I think I get the basis of it.” He mutters. 

“What’s the first thing you remember?”

“Lube and a condom,” Patton relays, more concerned with being right than embarassed. 

“And when do you use those?”

“You can use lube any time that you need, including masturbation, but should definitely be used for penetrative sex…” Janus nods, encouraging him along “...and condoms should be used for oral and penetrative sex, or if you just don’t want to make a mess.” 

“Good!” He grins wide, placing his can down to pull open his drawer, he digs around for a moment. “...and also use a condom if you share toys although...that  _ probably _ is not an issue for you,” he states this with an amused but not mocking smile. Out of the drawer, he pulls out a paper bag and then chucks Patton a small bottle. “You can have that, it’s not been opened yet but you might find jacking off a little bit more pleasant, if you need condoms just come and knock, I don’t care if you’re just about to go at it or it’s awkward, would rather you be a little embarrassed than get sick.” 

The smaller man nods, staring at the bottle in his hand. 

“When you run out of that, you can get it at basically any drugstore, I’m sure Roman will take you.” Patton nods again, starting to feel like one of those bobblehead dolls. “Now, here are some truths about sex that literally no porn will tell you: actually have you ever even  _ watched  _ porn?” 

“I...uh...no,” 

“Okay, well if you want to see how the logistics of gay sex looks, hop onto pornhub,  _ however, _ don’t take it as truth or fact, they’re actors and they’re paid to look and sound like that.” How he has so much composure is utterly impeccable to the other man, who is starting to wish he had not asked but is simultaneously relieved anyone is teaching him this at all. 

Like Emile had said, he has friends willing to teach him. So here he is, being taught, by maybe the only person in this flat that wouldn’t make that a little weird. Janus always has that sort of calmness about him that is both serious and light-hearted, and Patton doesn’t think he’s ever seen him give so much as a blush. When Remus makes overly explicit jokes _ he’s _ the one that laughs.

“So, weird truths about sex; it isn’t all serious and you’re allowed to have a laugh, sometimes it can feel like you’re bloody marrying someone and sometimes it’s like a casual conversation, the more you get to know someone’s body the less intense it seems too.” Patton has never heard someone describe sex as a ‘casual conversation’ but something about that seems intimate and pleasant. 

“Your body will sometimes make strange noises, more noticeably during penetrative sex, if you’re having all that air fucked into you it’s  _ going  _ to need to come out, sometimes you’ll accidentally make a strange noise, or you’ll get tickled and need to laugh...it’s fine, and your partner  _ won’t _ mind.” The taller man says that with a delicate sort of smile that has Patton thinking he’s recalling something from memory; but also when his eyes drift a little to the patched-up hoodie on the back of his own desk chair (an item that definitely belongs to Virgil), Patton thinks he must  _ really _ love the other man to get  _ that _ sort of look on his face. 

“You might take a break halfway through and come back to it, you might have a whole conversation during it, there’s no real script to this and it’s alright to just say ‘look, I need a second, physically or mentally’.” Patton knew this one, he’s heard that before but he can’t remember if it was Roman, Emile or Logan who said it, these days all his information seems to swirl around. He supposes what matters is that he remembers it.

“There’s no endgame; if you never have penetrative sex or you don’t like it...that’s completely fine, it’s no more or less intimate to jack someone off, at the end of the day someone is touching you and you are touching them and that’s already a level of bravery that takes most years to undergo.” He’s definitely not heard it described as ‘brave’ either. It gives him a small smile to think of it like that, he supposes it is brave in a way. Actually yes, he decides, he  _ is _ brave for making this decision, maybe  _ very _ stupid too but there is always going to be a panic in him he can’t shake.

“Also, cum tastes weird if you ever taste it...it’s not a pleasant taste; chances are Roman will get tested or will have gotten tested beforehand so under the assumption he is the person you’re fucking...if he’s  _ not _ I have a handful of questions and a bottle of wine to open...ask him beforehand if he’s gotten tested, he won’t be offended believe me.” 

“That’s a lot of information,” Patton whispers. 

“It is, but it’s important information to have; you can’t spend the entire experience worrying or feeling embarrassed all the time, you’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes strange things happen during sex, like getting accidentally tickled, or your stomach rumbling, or needing to fart...it’s not all glamour, it’s just bodies doing what bodies do.” 

Something about that sentence shucks half of the fears Patton had had right off of his shoulders, making a soft ‘huh’ noise in response.  _ Just what bodies do.  _ That makes him feel somehow...less tense about the entire situation. “Can I ask a personal question?” 

“You can  _ ask, _ I can’t guarantee I’ll answer though.” Patton gives a small, tired smile. 

“What’s the  _ worst _ experience you’ve had?” 

Janus hums with a small grin that reassures Patton he’s not asking a deeply personal question. “It’s kind of funny now, but the first time I had sex with Virgil I was so anxious that I threw up afterwards, he finds it really funny now, and he thought it was cute at the time that I’d gotten  _ that _ worked up over it.” The other man bites back a half-covered laugh whilst Janus takes another long sip from his can, still grinning.

“I feel bad that I’m laughing but...that sounds like something I would do.” 

“And if it is, then I promise you you’ll end up laughing about it for the rest of your lives.” He gives a fond smile, it sinks in on Patton that the rest of his life is something he gets to live, and the idea of living it with anyone at all is exhilarating. Janus seems pretty aware of the fact he intends to spend his with Virgil, but they’d known each other for so long the idea of being with anyone else must seem strange to them both.

“At the end of the day the reason  _ you _ have sex, and the reason  _ I  _ have sex is more than just scratching an itch, it’s because you desire to be vulnerable with someone and in return...them with you.” Patton’s shoulders relaxed a little, a small smile on his lips, that does make sense. He’d been thinking about this in terms of sexual desire, something his body wants. 

But there’s a reason that his desire is for Roman. He’s found plenty of men attractive, even, although he wouldn’t admit it at the time, arousing. But he wants Roman, his body wants Roman too but his heart and soul  _ wants  _ him to be close to the other man. He craves it.

They both hear the heavy front door opening and closing and Janus tips his can towards Patton with his eyebrows raised. “And there’s our peace and quiet gone.” He says it with so much amusement that Patton knows he isn’t being serious, especially as there’s no way of hiding the way he sits up that much straighter at the sound of Virgil’s voice, like a lost puppy looking for it’s master. 

Now that’s a thought. 

Janus’ door opens and the purple-haired man stands in the doorway with several bags, his head tilted to the side over his shoulder as he props open the bedroom door, still chatting to Roman before he turns to face the two in his second room. “Hey I got...oh, hi Patton, Roman you’ve lost your boy, he’s with mine!” The redhead comes into view, a grin on his face as he holds his own shopping bags.

_ “Your  _ boy?” Roman asks, amusement in his tone as he leans against the doorframe. “Patton is his own boy.” 

“I’m  _ his _ boy,” Janus nods, agreeing “I’m not arguing with that, I want to know what’s in the Ann Summers bag far too much.” Virgil’s smile turns a little more flirtatious. Patton figures he does not want to hear any more of  _ that _ conversation. “You might want to camp in Roman’s room tonight Pat.” 

_ “Thank you,” _ the smaller man is still clutching onto the bottle of lube, he holds it a little awkwardly as he brushes past Virgil, who raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t look suspicious, just mildly amused. The door locks behind Patton and he stands in the hallway, in front of Roman, still holding the bottle in his hand. “I...uh...asked  _ one _ question, and I ended up being given sex education.” 

“That...that sounds like Janus, yes.” He holds up his shopping bags. “I got you a present!” Patton straightens up at that, following the other man to his bedroom as he places the bags down. “Logan told me your dress size, but I figured as you seemed to really like your last one…” He hands a bag over, which Patton takes gingerly. This one is a deep red, the same sort of style as the last one, a tight bodice with a floaty skirt, but the sleeves were long and...almost net-like in texture. The smaller man beams ecstatically, holding the dress up to his chest. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it, thank you!” He grins giddily, wrapping his arms around the other man. 

“And I figured, in that vein, how would you like to go on a date tomorrow night?” Patton inhales sharply, biting his lip a little, before nodding. He wants to wear his pretty dress, and he wants to go on a date. “I found this really nice restaurant in the gay district, it has gender-neutral bathrooms so you’ll feel comfortable using the toilet and stuff in this attire...if that’s what you want to wear, the staff are lovely too.” 

Patton smiles and nods, enjoying the sound of Roman’s heart beating. “I’d love that.” 

**_Thursday_ **

Thursday passed by so slowly it was agonising. Patton had his morning and afternoon classes and they dragged by so  _ torturously _ slow that he’s sure the day might halt and start running backwards. 

Finally, the evening comes and he slams his books shut, hardly able to contain just how giddy he feels. He showers, washes his hair and shaves the very little facial hair he manages to ever grow (the hair on his face is very thin and very light and never amounts to much, whilst the hair on his arms always seems a little thicker, probably because he doesn’t eat enough)

He slides on that dress, and again he struggles with the zipper, staring at himself in the mirror with a frown. A knock at the door has him practically growling in frustration as he tugs it open to find Logan on the other side. “Remus told me that Roman told him that he’s taking you on a date tonight and I was instructed by Remus to give you these, he said they’ll look nice with your dress and that they’re new and he’s never worn them.” 

Patton takes the bag suspiciously, a gift from Remus usually comes with a price. Logan stares at him for a very long moment, seemingly having an internal argument before he sighs. “Let me do your hair, it’s getting way too long.” Which is how Patton ended up getting his hair combed and pinned in Logan’s bedroom, (thankfully the other man had helped him zip up the dress too). “I used to do my mother’s hair,” he explains with a little smile as if it’s a fond memory he has. “Sometimes she wouldn’t be able to do it herself, so I would do it for her.” He slides the last hair grip. “Since I’ve been growing my hair out, incidentally, it wasn’t really a conscious choice, I’ve found these help keep it out of my eyes.” 

Patton’s hair is not  _ long _ , but the fluffy curls that usually fall straight into his glasses are now clipped out of his eyes, instead of merging with the ones that fall down to the base of his neck. If he grew it out a little longer, maybe just past his shoulder blades, he thinks that would look quite nice. 

He thanks Logan and disappears back to his own room, opening the bag. They’re... _ something _ , he doesn’t know what at first as he opens the packaging and then gives a short laugh, right, of  _ course _ this is something Remus would own. They’re tights, he thinks that’s what they’re called, except up to just above the knees they’re black, and shaped into little cat ears at the top, and then the rest are almost see-through, he understands they must be delicate as he pulls them up carefully. 

He looks nice if he does say so himself. 

He puts on that little angel necklace, it hangs just above the crucifix around his neck. Patton’s fingertips come up to trace the jewellery, wondering why the sensation makes him feel...warm, not in a flustered way, but an erotic one. He realises after a second that it’s the sensation of the tights on his thighs that are doing it, and makes a small sort of ‘huh’ noise in response. 

The sensation leaves after a moment and he shakes his head, he gets the feeling he’s constantly going to be finding new things out about himself from here on out. 

Roman knocks at his door and he opens it, smiling up at him; the taller man always has this look on his face when he sees Patton, a little bit of awe, a lot of reverie, like he’s looking not at a person but some sort of mystical creature. Roman makes him feel just that much powerful too, sometimes. 

And Roman, by the way, looks  _ amazing _ . He’s wearing a white shirt made of some thin, floaty material, the front tucked in and the rest out, and black jeans that are so tight that Patton’s fairly sure he can’t stop staring at his thighs if he tried. He’s definitely sure he can’t stop thinking about squeezing them against his palm and feeling them tense the way his own do when...he catches his own thoughts and instead takes the arm offered, thinking he could really do with getting through the evening without all of his blood abandoning his brain.

They get a taxi to the restaurant and he wishes he was a little less nervous as he takes Roman’s hand in his own. The place is big and pretty, near the club they’d been to twice, there are fairy lights hanging up everywhere and strips of fabric hanging down from the ceiling. It smells like cinnamon and herbal teas and something very  _ nice _ . 

They’re seated at a table and Patton is just a little bit enthralled by the groups of people sitting on couches at tables, leaning into each other and laughing, drinking and eating. He’s a little bit overwhelmed to see couples being affectionate with each other so easily, and even one group of three people who seemed equally invested in each other. He takes a deep breath in and wonders if this is what coming home should feel like. 

Roman squeezes his hand and picks up the menu. 

The server comes over to take their drinks order, he smiles a lot and walks the way Remus does, like he’s on a mission and high on life; he must feel safe here, Patton knows he does, as he holds Roman’s hand  _ over _ the table and not under it. They drink tea in a flavour that tastes like berries, that absolutely drives the smaller man insane. “They make tea that tastes like berries?” He’d exclaimed, completely absorbed by the whole page of teas, Roman had just leaned his head on his hand and smiled at Patton like he was the entire sun itself.

Then they ordered food, it’s not a big meal but Patton is not a big eater anyway, Roman, however, loves his food, and ends up with one and a half desserts (the half being the remnants of Patton’s, which was more like three quarters). 

By the time they get outside Patton is walking on light itself with his happiness, ecstatically talking about his night as though Roman was not there for it. His partner just watches him gesture and spin on the spot, tripping over his own words as he understands that Patton has never really had a community before. This must mean the  _ world  _ to him. Roman catches his hand and leans down to kiss him, unable to resist a second longer as that smile sinks against his lips and Patton’s hands grip his shirt.

Then the taxi pulls up and they pull apart. 

Halfway back, the adrenaline starts to wear off and Patton rests his head on Roman’s shoulder, yawning as his body curls up to his boyfriend’s, sinking under the arm that wraps protectively around him. 

He’s tired by the time they’re back at their flat and Roman chuckles softly, kissing the top of his head. He sits Patton down at his desk chair and carefully pulls the pins from his hair, his fingertips carding gently through the free curls as they message against his scalp with the softest touch. The threads of his hair tangle carefully around his fingers and Patton leans his head back into the touch with a gentle sigh of content, his eyes closing.

Roman smiles down at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead, it lingers, firm but not oppressive. Then he pulls back and moves to the front of the other man, his hand coming up to brush a curl from Patton’s eyes with a gentle brush of his fingertips. Then he kneels down on the floor to undo Patton’s shoes for him, sliding his feet out of them slowly, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull too hard or too fast, and although neither would hurt Patton, he feels like he needs to treat him with the same amount of delicacy one would a butterfly. The bright blue eyes open slowly and took in a deep breath as he takes in the sight of Roman on his knees in front of him (for him).

_ Oh, _ he  **_wishes_ ** he wasn’t tired, because there’s something  _ very _ wonderful about the redhead staring up at him like that. 

Roman’s hands slide up his legs gently, fingertips and palms ghosting over the length of him from his heel up to his knees. He leans up with the movement and Patton leans down to meet him halfway, kissing him slowly, his heart rate rockets in his chest as those calloused hands move to rest on his thighs with an ease that is almost featherlight. 

He takes Roman’s hands in his own and slides them up the sides of his thighs. Roman doesn’t look as Patton lifts his hips and he slides the tights carefully down his legs. His hands graze against Patton’s skin and his breath hitches deeply against his own lips, then the smaller man leans back, just to watch Roman’s hands slide them off his ankles and feet, placing the article of clothing near his shoes. There’s a heated look in Patton’s eyes, his cheeks flushed as he smiles down at his partner (a very small smile, dazed and  _ wanting _ ). 

“Bedtime for you,” Roman whispers, voice catching in his throat, his whisper sounds like a shout in the static silence. Patton’s smile widens a little, a little laugh exhaling through his nose. 

“I can’t reach the zipper on this dress,” he manages back, just as quietly and yet  _ far _ too loudly. “Could you get that for me?” The look on Roman’s face would be priceless if it wasn’t so endearing, his eyes going a little wide and his cheeks almost as red as his hair. 

He stands from his knees (Patton wishes he’d stay there, in front of his slightly spread legs and his hands on his thighs, he looks so good knelt in front of him, he doesn’t really know why his whole body flushes under that thought), he holds out a hand and helps Patton to stand, the blond faces the wall with a movement far too graceful to be naturally his own. 

Roman’s hand comes up to the zipper and slides it down far too slowly, his knuckles graze Patton’s spine and the smaller man feels eyes close from the movement, his skin feeling hot where their bodies touch even just slightly. He looks back a little at Roman, his eyebrows raised almost defiantly, the other man grins at the mischief in his eyes and shakes his head a little. Then, his hands slide the dress down Patton’s shoulders, his palms pressing to the skin that’s exposed as he drags the material off of his arms. The smaller man leans against him, his eyes closing at the touch, as it falls to the floor and pools around his ankles, Patton steps backwards, out of it, and presses their bodies flush together. 

The feeling of Roman’s clothes against his almost naked body has him feeling so heated, but as Roman’s hands fall to his waist he gets a much more immediate, fierce, sensation (like boiling water crawling through his stomach), fast and twisting. Roman’s fingertips trace the waistband of his boxers with no intention to do anything more, but Patton feels his abdomen tense when his palm pressed to his lower stomach. He can’t help it, he shifts a little, his body pressing back against Roman’s. 

He presses back  _ hard _ , his head leaning against the taller body that fits against his own like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Roman’s nails dig in against his skin by half an inch and the sensation,  _ oh  _ **_god_ ** , the sensation that brings has Patton’s whole body feeling weak. His body rocks back like a shockwave had shorted in his veins. 

There’s a little sense of pride, and fear (but not terror), when he feels that Roman is almost hard, pressing against the curve of his ass. He knows if he turned around now he could have whatever he wanted from the other, whose hands are shaking against his skin (nails digging in just a little, just enough, he feels like he can’t breathe and yet he’s so alive). He could kiss him and prise whatever it is he desired from those hands. 

Will he ever stop thinking about those  _ hands? _

Still, he’s tired, and Roman’s tired, and he doesn’t want this to be rushed, and he wants it to be remembered. So he just steps forward a little, his fingertips intertwining with the hand on his stomach. He turns to face Roman with some distance between them, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Thank you,” he smiles, bending down to pick up the dress and hang it on the back of the desk chair. “That felt nice.” Roman smiles back, not upset by the distance but a little confused at what had just happened. 

Still, he undresses and offers Patton a shirt, and asks him if he wants him to wear a shirt too, but Patton just shakes his head and rests his glasses on the bedside table. No, he wants to feel as much of Roman’s body as he can right now (feel him rest his hands on his back, he wants to feel them on his body). If he were brave enough, he might’ve taken off his underwear too. 

**_Friday_ **

Patton wakes up lying half on top of Roman, his leg and arm lying across the other man’s body. He half opens his eyes to find Roman staring down at him with slight amusement, leaning over the side of the bed to offer him a bottle of water that he must’ve gotten up and filled whilst Patton had been sleeping, Patton lifts his head a little, indicating he has no intention of moving; the other man laughs softly, shaking his head as he unscrews the cap and lifts the bottle to Patton’s lips. 

He swears the other man makes very deliberate eye contact with him as he does. 

Then Patton rests his head back down against his chest, still half asleep as he lightly squeezes the other man with his arm, his hand tucked up next to Roman’s ribs whilst the other man traces circles through his spin comfortingly. 

“Fancy a bed day?” Roman asks. “We can just watch movies.”

“Don’t you have class?” 

“Yeah, about three hours ago.” Roman laughs softly. “It’s nearly one in the afternoon Pat.” The blond lifts his head in surprise. “I didn’t want to leave you alone so I just told them I wasn’t feeling well.” The moment Patton looks like he’s about to protest, Roman hushes him. “Let’s have some breakfast.” 

Patton pulls on a shirt and rolls up the cuffs of Roman’s sweats to make some waffles, they eat, brush their teeth, and clamber back into bed with the laptop set up on the chair, playing a film they hadn’t yet watched. The smaller man holds onto Roman like he’s terrified he’ll disappear if he lets go, his mind playing the previous night over and over again.  _ Where had that confidence come from? _ He wonders this to himself, tracing Roman’s fingertips on his skin with his mind. 

He remembers his arousal pressing against his body and never in his life had such a primal need overtook him. It was almost cannibalistic, the way he’d wanted Roman’s teeth to sink into his skin in that second. But it wasn’t the right time, the right mood. Is there a right time or mood? He isn’t sure how this works at all, but he untangles their bodies to pull the shirt over his head because the room is suddenly far too warm (although the laptop plugged into the wall didn’t help either). 

_ Roman’s hands.  _

He can’t stop thinking about it, how natural it felt to have him touch him. He wants to drown in that touch, he wants to scream and gasp for air like the sea swallowing him whole, he wants...he wants  _ Roman _ . His hand slips up the other’s shirt and feels the way Roman sucks all the air into his lungs at the movement, but he just rests it there on his stomach. 

“Can...Can I…?” Patton asks, finally, after a long moment, his hand finds the hem of Roman’s shirt and he tugs a little. The dancer smiles fondly but nervously and leans up just to tug it over his head, letting it fall to the floor. Patton stares long and hard, his fingertips tracing invisible lines over the other man’s body. He wonders if his touch feels as wonderfully jarring to Roman as the other man does to him. Does it feel hot? Does it feel impossibly overpowering, like a drug? When Roman shivers just a little, Patton’s fingertips tracing his chest, he thinks he gets his answer. 

His hand slides up his body and it maps out the curves of his being, feeling Roman breathe deeper and deeper the harder he presses, his fingertips curling over the chest of the other man. Roman has such a nice body, he’s caught glimpses of him changing before but this is different; he leans up and presses a soft kiss to his ribs. 

The way Roman looks back at him, his eyes half-closed, lips parted and breathing like a shudder, like a gasp for air, like he’s shivering under the weight of the other man’s body. It makes him feel so powerful he aches, his whole body  _ aches. _

For a moment there’s just absence in Roman’s eyes as Patton’s lips press to his skin, savouring the taste. Patton’s eyes closed as his tongue and lips move over him, and then he opens them to take in the breathless expression on the other’s face. Roman’s hands come up to his back and sides, driving up his warm skin gently. 

And then Patton has just had  _ enough _ . 

He surges up and kisses Roman so firmly that he feels the way the other heaves in a breath in surprise. He leans up, and Roman leans up too, the leg that had been laid over his body presses into the mattress on the other side. As the red-haired man leans up on his elbows, chasing the kiss, Patton slides down his body just so his thighs are resting over Roman’s hips. 

The curly-haired man leans forward a little more, their hips pressing together. Their bodies fit together and slide so easily, Roman’s hand curls up Patton’s spine and feels the jolt of his shivering body to his touch. His hands are large to Patton, who has always felt so small that he’d crack if someone so much as touched his cheek too hard. His body is small, and Roman is tall and strong and his personality fills up rooms, but Patton realises finally just why he loves Roman’s touch.

He doesn’t  _ feel  _ small. For the first time in a long time, perhaps forever, he feels utterly  _ unbreakable _ . 

Roman’s hands touch his skin and he’s so full of fire, so full of desire, but despite that large personality and the body that’s usually a whole head above Patton’s, but he stares up at Patton, for the moment their lips part and he  **_sees_ ** Roman, he stares up like Patton he’s _ devoted _ to him.

So he pushes Roman down gently, more guiding him than anything, and presses their lips together whilst their bodies move, slowly but surely. He can feel every drag of their bodies together and he’d never felt anything like it before; not the physical pleasure, but Roman’s body against his own makes his entire being filled with a whole different kind of heat.

His hands cage Roman’s head against the mattress, swallowing the sounds the other man makes as their tongues brush against each other.  _ The sounds he makes. _

“Are you okay?” Patton asks softly, pulling away from him a little so he can still feel the breath against his lips. 

“I am, are you?” Roman replies, his voice scratchy and breaking. 

“Never been better.” That’s not a lie either. Their lips meet again, briefly, before one of Roman’s hands part from Patton’s skin to tilt the other’s chin to the side with care, leaning up to press his lips to the other man’s jaw, kissing open-mouthed along his flushed skin. Patton makes a small noise that is somehow both surprise and relief, but it’s replaced by a soft moan when Roman reaches his neck and sucks. The sensation runs straight to his cock, his arousal bubbling inside him as Roman’s lips and tongue and then teeth work over his neck and collarbones, tasting his skin. 

Patton pulls back again, and leans down to repay the favour. He sucks at the skin tentatively, gently at first but when he drags it between his teeth and Roman makes a noise that is almost a beg, almost a plea, most  _ definitely _ a whimper, and he finds the sound so addictive, he repeats it again and again, marking his skin.

The look that meets his eyes as he leans back to catch his breath is not a way he’s ever seen Roman before; Roman is always so in control of himself, but he stares up at Patton like his entire life is currently in his hands. So Patton grinds his hips down with more force, their bodies rocking together. The skin of their stomachs and ribs graze to each other’s, creating friction in their movements, Roman’s hands drift up the length of his back and then back down again where they gently grip his hips. 

He doesn’t remotely want to look away from Roman’s face, doesn’t want for a second to stop seeing the way pleasure is demonstrated in his dark green eyes, or the panting of air ghosting his lips. 

Patton’s usual shyness and unsureness drained with the sheer desire to bring Roman pleasure. His face was determined, grounded through arousal and the most primal kind of want. 

Roman’s shaky hands dip under the back of the waistband of his sweats. Roman’s sweats, on Patton’s body, trapped between their too-warm, too-clothed and not clothed enough bodies. He grinds up against the other, their cocks trapped between their bodies with their rocking movements. The bed creaks underneath them and the film is still playing in the background but all they can hear are the whimpers and moans.

When Roman’s end of the kiss ceases, Patton pulls back to ask if something’s wrong, but he doesn’t get the chance. 

He’s never going to forget the way his name sounded being  _ ripped _ from Roman’s throat as his entire body jolts against him, gasping and panting and whimpering. He almost gets shocked out of his own arousal as he looks down at the other man’s face, his head pressing back against the bedsheets and his face twisted with the most intense pleasure Patton has ever seen. 

He wants to document the way Roman’s eyebrows draw in, furrowed, the way his eyes screwed shut so tightly it’s as if he’s avoiding some horrible (or beautiful) truth. His lips hanging open, dragging in all the air that he can’t remember how to take in, his body pressing up against him, his nails digging in against Patton’s skin, his cock twitching through the layers of their clothes, his whole existence some beautiful symphony that has Patton purely wonderstruck.

**_He_ ** _ did that to Roman.  _

_ And how  _ **_powerful_ ** _ that makes him feel.  _

If only all those times he had felt small, too small, he could see how untouchable he feels in that moment.

The taller man relaxes into the bed, his chest heaving, he chokes on his saliva for a second as he tries to breathe normally again. A short laugh of disbelief ghosts his lips, peeling his eyes open to look up at Patton, who still looks like he’d been punched in the gut by some eye-opening secret. Roman leans up to kiss away the dumbstruck expression. “Your turn,” he mutters. 

The next second Patton knows he’s on his back, Roman’s face buried against his neck and his thigh pressed between his own. His own cock is so sensitive and he feels like he’s been waiting for years somehow for this moment. He grinds up against Roman’s thigh, one hand knotting in that wonderful red hair and gripping much harder than he intended. 

The overwhelming crash of his orgasm has Patton making so many noises he didn’t really know he  _ could _ make. He knows he says Roman’s name, he knows he says it several times, he thinks he says thank you somewhere along the line as well, because politeness can never apparently go amiss. 

He knows it’s the most intense pleasure he’s ever felt, rocking against Roman like some sort of animal, and he knows that thought alone gives him another jolt of arousal that his sensitivity definitely doesn’t agree with. 

He knows afterwards he drags Roman into a kiss that’s so hard he  _ promises _ himself his lips will bruise. 

He feels like an animal starving for something. He’s wondering if there’s an amount of times he could taste Roman on his tongue before he couldn’t be satiated by it. He’s very aware of the fact he’s shivering. Then finally it all drains away, and he’s just still, breathless, a little out of it, and this underwear is not feeling comfortable with his come drying in it. 

“Good?” Roman asks. 

“I can’t breathe,” Patton replies, closing his eyes. “I think I’m having a heart attack.” Roman laughs, it’s loud and wonderful and any sinking sensation that Patton had even thought of having, gets shaken out of him as he opens his eyes to look at the other. But Roman doesn’t stop laughing, he kneels up to cover his mouth but he just can’t stop. And Patton starts laughing too, because he can’t believe that happened, and he can’t believe he’s...okay, he feels okay. 

He thinks as long as Roman is around to laugh, he’ll be okay.

**_Saturday_ **

Patton is okay. He’s fine. 

**_Sunday_ **

_ Patton is  _ **_not_ ** _ okay. _


	16. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little check-in on Remus and Remy

**_12:13 AM: You up?_ **

Remus lifts a tired head as he stares at his phone screen, a small smile on his lips as he shuffles to sit up in bed. He taps away at his phone, glancing down at his sleeping boyfriend as he does so: _‘No, this is my unconscious body talking’,_ he can almost imagine Remy’s grin as the message comes up as read. 

The almost silent ping is still too loud in the midnight room, but he finds his heart skip a beat in his chest at the response. _‘Would your unconscious body like something to look at before I get some clothes on?’_ Remy must’ve just gotten in from work, well one of them. He does part-time work as a bartender, and sometimes in a cafe, the latter half he volunteers working in because he enjoys it. Remus can’t fathom enjoying customer service, sometimes he wishes he could dump a boiling hot coffee over his patrons head. 

These are little things that over the last few weeks he'd learned about Remy. The first time he'd gotten his number he'd been so excited to text him, but the uncertainty still has not refrained. He has no idea exactly what they're doing. 

_‘It sure would’_ he bites his own lip gently as he stares at the screen waiting. Since meeting Remy, they often found themselves in _these_ conversations too. Especially since the night at the club, he’d loved dancing with him. He’s small and strong and he has that demanding grin that makes Remus feel like he’s tangled up in knots. Which is not to say that he loves Remy, fuck, it’s hard enough gripping that he loves Logan, but he does excite him and that’s quite enough for both of them right now. 

His phone vibrates as he peers down at the screen, his eyes carving lines into the images of Remy’s body. The first he’d clearly just gotten out of the shower, beads of water running over his toned stomach with his towel just about hanging off his hips. The second is his body lying on the bed, cum stringing from the head of his cock against his abdomen, there’s a light shine of sweat to his skin. The third is him fisting his hard cock. None of them has his face in the picture, but Remus’ imagination can finish that job for him. 

He replies with the sweat emoji, followed by _‘looking hot as ever,’_ he’s not a massive flirt, not really that caught up on sexting if you’d believe it. Usually, his body does what words cannot, which is why it’s forever baffling to him that he apparently sweet-talked Logan into his bed. He glances down at his boyfriend once more, he’s still sleeping peacefully, looking like a world of innocence as he snores gently. 

_‘Emile’s asleep :(‘_ is the next text, Remus snorts quietly, before another comes through less than a minute later: _‘not that you’re a second choice, but you have a habit of making my self-esteem soar’._

_‘Oh yeah?’_ it’s all he can think to respond with. 

_‘Yeah, you’re easily riled up'_ , Not a way in which Remus has ever been described before, but he realises at that point that he’s absently squeezing himself through his sweats and sighs. 

_‘Can’t help it, you show up with an ass like that, what’s a guy to do?’_ He slips his hand into his sweats, squeezing his cock gently, shifting from base to tip in the palm of his hand. A quiet grunt escapes him and he bites down on his bottom lip to keep it silenced. 

_‘Sorry, do I turn you on? ;)’_ He snorts quietly, tempted to ask Remy if his ego is in competition with his cock for size. 

_‘No, I’m just sat here jacking off to pictures of you because you’re horrendous to look at’_ , he rests his phone on his thigh with a soft sigh, jerking his hand along his cock. His eyes fall shut for a moment, daydreaming absently about Remy, and Logan, and perhaps both at once. The vibration of his text tone has him peeling open his eyes and picking his phone back up once more. 

_‘Eurgh, mood’_ , Remus’ heart rate quickens a little bit. _‘Don’t suppose you feel like giving me a little visual aid?’_ Remus glances down at Logan for a moment, before he slowly releases himself, peeling back the covers and stepping over him. The smaller man snuffles a little bit but otherwise is undisturbed. Remus slips out of the door and into his own room, switching on the light. 

_‘Last ones worn off?’_ he texts back, before opening his camera, he pulls off his shirt and places the phone up against the pillows, pressing the record button. He squeezes himself through the fabric of his sweatpants, showing off the outline of his hard cock, before one hand pushes them down his thighs and the other wraps around himself. He strokes from tip to base slowly, giving a shaky exhale, before moving a little faster, rocking his hips into the touch. The video cuts off from there, and he clicks send. 

He holds the phone in one hand and strokes himself with the other, watching it load and then send. He waits a moment, a slight grin on his lips. _‘Fuck Re, I’d kill to suck you off right now’_ the grin widens and he places the phone back down, speeding up his movements, a video comes through for him and he clicks on it, waiting for it to load. Remy appears to be on his living room couch, the video taken from above. Remy presses two fingers into his own mouth and sucks, trailing spit from his open mouth down his chin, before wrapping his hand around his leaking cock. 

_‘I’d kill to fuck that pretty mouth of yours’_ he types so fast and he’s sure there are spelling mistakes because his hand is shaking. He rarely gets a picture or video with Remy’s face in it, and it seems to spur him even more. The rapid buildup of his orgasm pushes through him more intensely than usual, so he places the phone down once more, clicking on the video function. He sits back on his heels, knees spread to just about catch his expression, his head tilting back as his hips jerk and his cock twitches in his hand, cum squirting from the tip over his own hand and onto the bed. His moans are not forced or fake, nor how he can make Remy’s name out of the jumbled sounds. He curses, low and trembling as his hips rock into his hand until he can stand it no longer, shuddering. The video cuts off, and he hits send. 

Remus brings the back of his clean hand to his face to wipe off the sweat, before heading to the bathroom to clean himself off and wipe down the bedsheets. By the time he’s returned, there is a video waiting for him too. 

His breath hitches in his throat as he listens to the sound Remy makes, despite the fact he’s spent he can feel the frustrating waves of arousal as he watches the man’s face contort in pleasure, cum dripping onto his stomach, less than the previous picture but that’s hardly surprising if he's going almost twice in a row. 

_‘I’m gonna need another shower now…’_ is the supplementary text he gets. Remus grins, sitting down on the bed, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. 

_‘You’re really fucking pretty’_ , he can practically hear Remy’s brain stuttering at the response, he stares at his phone waiting for a reply. 

_‘You’re one to talk, babe’_ , Remus takes a deep breath in, hardly able to wipe the grin off his face. He’s so tired and yet he can’t fathom falling asleep right now, his heart tripping over in his chest from sheer exhilaration. _‘We should probably get back to our boyfriends’_. Remus nods, mostly to himself, exhaling a slight sigh. He wishes he could see Remy, this whole late-night sexting thing is all fun and games but he’d love the real deal sometime. He doesn’t really know what’s holding them back, what’s holding him back, he knows if he asks, Remy would say yes. _‘Until next time’_.

_‘Until next time x’_. He feels like he’s holding his breath as he slides off the bed, switches off the light and slips through his own door back to Logan’s room. He tries to close it quietly behind him, but Logan shuffles around. 

“Remus?” He asks groggily. 

“Yep, go back to sleep babe,” he slips in beside Logan and wraps an arm around his waist. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, go back to sleep.” 

“You never call me ‘babe’,” Logan mutters, a sleepy smile on his face. “Were you talking to Remy again?” 

“Yeah.” Logan nods, closing his eyes. 

“I’m glad you two get along.” Remus smiles and presses a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You’re both really hot,” the taller man snorts at Logan, shaking his head before he rests it against the pillow, closing his eyes. He knows it’s mostly pillow talk, and Logan is probably not going to remember this conversation, his pace of speech slow and slurred. 

“Is that _why_ you want us to get along?” 

“Yeah, then I can watch you make out,” Logan hums matter-of-factly like he’s making perfect sense, Remus grins. 

“I’ll be sure to bring it up, now go back to sleep.”

“‘Kay.” He closes his own eyes, considering Logan’s words, and Remy’s face, and how he’s just cum but if his body would let him he’d go again with that video playing in his mind. Logan is beautiful, and he loves him, but the excitement comes and goes and he knows and understands that he’s never going to be the only person this man loves. He also doesn’t necessarily want to love Remy, maybe at some point, but right now he kind of likes the little thing they’ve got going how it is. 

He’d like to kiss him though. He’d like to kiss him until he bruises. 

  
  



	17. Week 16: Melting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton is slowly mending himself, and Roman has an idea to help him out.

_**Monday** _

Patton spent all of Sunday feeling far too cold and a little sick. He’d closed his eyes so many times to stop himself from crying and suddenly his body felt like it didn’t belong to him. This carried over into Monday, and he couldn’t eat without his stomach lurching, he had cried so many times in the past twenty-four hours that it no longer felt exhilarating, mostly he just felt _scared._ There was nothing he could do, really, so he dragged his tired body to Roman’s bed and cried, but at least he had company whilst he was doing it.

**_Tuesday_ **

Emile comes to see him, he brings a smile and his hair now has lime green highlights that, on any other person, would look so _very_ ugly, but on Emile just looks cute. He tells him what he’d done, how he’s feeling, and Emile filters out his negative thoughts and offers him solutions. He gives Patton a new book in exchange for the one he’d finished reading. This time its fiction, but Emile promises he’ll like it. And Patton is happy to take a little break from reality so he accepts. 

He asks Emile if he believes in God, and the therapist sighs slightly with a shrug. “I don’t not believe, but I think my concept of God is a lot different than yours will be.” Patton nods, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his head on his folded arms. “I’m proud of you Patton, I know Roman is too, but you’re doing _so_ well.” He doesn’t feel like he’s doing well, so he scoffs a little. He feels like he’s falling apart, that he’s back at square one, and voices as much. “You can’t feasibly be back at square one,” Emile counters firmly “... the truth of the matter is you hooked up with Roman, and you enjoyed it, that's at least square ten; you’re just _naturally_ dealing with guilt.” 

“I’m not having a breakdown?” Patton asks. 

“Did you have a shower today?” A nod “How’s your water intake?” He holds up five fingers for five cups. “Food?” Patton nods, he feels a little sick but he had been eating and keeping it down. “Communication?” 

“I spoke to Roman about how I was feeling like you told me too.” 

“Patton, you’re _fine,_ ” the words shock him a little bit, he doesn’t feel fine. “I mean, not fine as in everything’s perfectly okay, but this isn’t a setback, this is to be expected; nothing about what you’re feeling right now is irrational or out of character for both yourself nor the general reaction to religious trauma.” 

“This is... _normal?”_

“Not normal in the neurotypical sense, but normal for this situation, absolutely.” 

“Oh.” Somehow that makes him feel a little better. “So if I’m not stepping backwards, that means I’m improving?” 

“How is your mood today in comparison to yesterday, better?” Patton nods. “Then keep doing what you’re doing, keep talking to Roman, and you have my number if you need me, keep up with your reading and general schedule, and when you have time I would recommend maybe connecting with other religious LGBT people.” He hands Patton a sheet of paper. “I found some in-person groups for you to attend, as well as some Facebook groups and some websites I think you’ll find helpful.” He gives a warm smile. “You’re going to be _okay_ Patton, this comes in ups and downs, all trauma does, it doesn’t mean you’re back at square one, it really means that you are getting better; I mean look how fast you bounced back, that’s progress.” 

Patton finally feels like he can smile again, nodding, relieved, a slow warmth spreading in his chest. “I’ve got to go see Roman!” He jumps off of the chair. “Thank you, Emile, oh and say hi to Remy for me!” and then he’s darting out of the door, Emile gives a short laugh, shaking his head. Patton is up and down every five minutes never mind every other day. He is a little worried about the other man, but Patton is in good hands with Roman, the two just fit in a way that Emile very rarely sees, or indeed, in a way very few people ever see. Not soulmates in the sense that they're perfect for each other but in the sense that they're opposites with a lot of mediating to do between them. 

_**Wednesday** _

Patton feels very warm. The room is warm and his body is warm and his eyes are half opening from a very pleasant dream, but now the room is too dark and he can only sigh. He’d been having an open debate with himself for the last three days, and it is just about coming to a close. 

At first, it had been guilt, then a sense of rejection, but he’s slowly coming out of the other side feeling much better than he’d gone in. Emile had said this would happen, that it’s normal to have ups and downs and it’s important to check in on his own emotions. Yesterday he’d spoken to Roman, they’d talked about heaven and hell and God, and science and faith. Afterwards, he’d felt much better, had kissed Roman good night and fallen asleep. 

Roman has his way of doing that to him, making him feel safe and understood, not challenging his thoughts, but providing exposition and context without really meaning too. For someone who is agnostic, he has to be the closest person to explain religion in a way that made sense to Patton. He knows how much it means to the other man, and sometimes Patton thinks Roman’s opinions on God and heaven had changed in the time they’d known each other, too. He seems less cynical about it now. 

So the last few days have been a whirlwind of up and down as he battles with his own thoughts, most of it alone, and the rest of it with Roman’s comfort. And now he feels a little better, a little less like the hole in his chest is going to open up and eat him alive. That’s nice. Now, he can focus on the exhilarating knowledge of Roman’s expression twisted in pleasure, and that he’d witnessed that. It doesn’t _feel_ real, but every time he closes his eyes he sees it. He smiles a little to himself, sitting up slowly to peer through the darkness at the redhead lying beside him. 

Patton is in love. He’s not going to argue with that. He is in love with Roman, who is a man, and weeks ago that would’ve been the worst news in the world to him. 

But right now, in the darkness of the room, it is the only blessing he has ever received, and he prays to God that he can keep it. Roman is not a punishment, and neither is his sexuality or love, these things are all blessings and could never be anything else. He can’t let himself forget that. There’s no way something that feels this wholesome could be evil. Somewhere he remembers that his belief in God and his belief in himself are not too different, he was always taught that God does not make a mistake and he had tried too hard to change himself for this to be a choice. So if this is the way he was made, then it's not him that's wrong, it's _them_. And if they could see the way Roman's eyes carefully pull apart to look up at him, a lazy smile on his tired lips, or the way his hand curls around Patton's as he sleepily asks him if he's okay, maybe they would understand. If they couldn't choose, then why can he? And if they did choose, then what sort of people does that make them? You can't force yourself to love or hate, those are emotions that come from the soul. 

He leans down to press a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead, shuffling down the bed to tangle their limbs together, and for the first time in days, he feels like he _breathes_. 

_**Sunday** _

The rest of the week is a slow progression uphill, and by the time Sunday rolls around, Patton is back to being his more cheerful self. His day is about to get more exciting when Roman knocks on his door with a slightly nervous smile and tells him to put on something nice. Patton asks what for, but he just shakes his head. “It’s a surprise!” 

He finds a nice pair of jeans and a shirt, throwing on his jacket and lacing up his boots on the way out. Virgil, spontaneously, is also stood there, leaning against the wall and talking to Roman. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” The dark-haired boy mutters, Roman glances up at Patton before shaking his head. He squeezes Virgil’s arm and approaches his partner with a smile. 

“Still not telling me where we’re going?” 

“You’ll like it,” Virgil gives him a warm smile, nodding, before he slides past the two back to Janus’ room, assumedly where he’d come from. Those two can spend the day away from each other, but at night they’re rarely away from the other’s company. Virgil had mentioned once he struggles to sleep peacefully without Janus. Anxiety, he’d explained, irrational fear of losing the other man. Patton would’ve thought it was sweet if he couldn’t see how much it clearly affected him. 

He takes Roman’s hand in his own as they head out of the front door and down the stairs. The daylight streams in through the windows, and outside there is a gentle breeze that makes him tilt his face up to the sun with a beam. They stand on the street outside the university until a taxi pulls up. Roman holds open the door for Patton, letting him get in first. 

The drive isn’t long, and he leans his head against the window, watching the streets pass by him. It’s a lovely day today, blue skies with a gentle chill to stop anyone from overheating. The sunlight makes his heart feel full, excited, he loves days like this. Days like this make him feel more alive than ever. 

When the taxi finally stops, Roman gets out, his hand resting on the door as Patton steps out. What Patton notices first is that his lover is shaking just a little, nervousness on his face. He’s so wrapped up in that, that he forgets to take in his surroundings for a second, more preoccupied with Roman’s anxiety. But then the taller man steps to the side and he’s confronted with something that makes his heart feels like it’s falling out of his chest. 

“This is probably not what Hozier meant when he sang _‘Take me to Church’_ , but here we are anyway.” Patton hadn’t even known what to say at first, less because yes this _is_ a church and _more_ to do with the giant rainbow sign that says _“all are welcome in the house of God.”_ He hadn’t been to church in weeks, he barely knows what to do with himself. He takes a reflexive step back as his heart jumps to his throat. “Are you okay?” He’s scared. But he nods anyway. 

Roman’s hand takes his own and steps towards the entrance, and Patton knows that the other man is not religious and this will be awfully boring for him, but he’s so glad he’s here. 

The greeters are two young women, one who has blue-coloured hair and two lip piercings, and the other who is cracking jokes with almost everyone who walks past. “You’re new!” She beams as they approach. “Oh I love your hair!” she reaches a hand up to ruffle the ginger mess on Roman’s head. 

“Alicia! _Stop_ touching random people’s hair!” 

“But look at him, he’s so bright!” Patton laughs, his shoulders un-tensing as he accepts the programme off of her. 

“I’m so sorry about her, she does this _every_ week.” 

“Only to gingers or…?” Roman asks, looking a little more relaxed himself. 

“Pretty much,” she hums. “She’s right though, you’re not getting lost in a crowd anytime soon.” Roman smiles, not just politely, but like he’s genuinely enjoying the conversation, as he too accepts the programme and squeezes Patton’s hand in his own. “Have a nice morning, boys!” She calls after him before they both turn to the next people. Patton faintly hears the lovely lady who is not Alicia tut in exasperation at her companion once more. “Stop harassing the redheads!” 

They both sit down at the back, Patton is staring up at the high ceiling and pretty decorations when Roman whispers in his ear: “They kind of went off on the paintings and shi- _stuff_ didn’t they?” Patton nods, an odd comfort in him as he looks around. “I like the architecture,” and then he can’t help but laugh quietly because Roman barely knows what makes good architecture and he’s definitely just trying to produce comfort for them bother. 

“It is pretty,” Patton nods after a second of quiet giggles. And then the piano starts to play. 

* * *

It’s not terrible, Roman decides as mass comes to a close. A little boring, but not nearly as ostracising as he’d expected. The part where he’d had to shake people’s hands was a little nerve-wracking because that involved looking people in the eyes and he had some strange sensation that they would just be able to _tell_ he didn’t belong here. As everyone is standing up, he brings a mildly self-conscious hand to his hair, something he’s never been insecure about before, but suddenly is. 

“Should I dye my hair?” He asks Patton absentmindedly. 

“Don’t you dare,” Patton replies sternly, stepping out into the aisle, but instead of walking to the door, he heads for the front, standing in front of the altar and staring at the golden tabernacle. 

“That’s one fancy box…” Roman stares at it, but whatever Patton is seeing, or thinking, he doesn’t know. “...what’s in it?”

“The Eucharist,” that word he knows, the body of Christ. Sounds mildly cannibalistic and he’s not entirely sure if _that’s_ blasphemy. He rests his hand on Patton’s back carefully. “It’s strange, being here.” He glances up at his partner. “I’ve never been here before but a church is a church, everything is the same, even the decorations are just variations of things I’ve seen a million times, but it doesn’t feel the same.”

“Do you feel safe here?” Roman asks. Patton nods, tears are filling his eyes and the redhead pulls his partner into a hug, letting him bury his face in his chest. 

“Are you two boys okay?” Roman looks up to see the priest who had led the mass, a kind and worried look on his face. 

“Yeah, he’s just, not used to being able to be wholly himself, I think.” Patton lifts his head and rubs his eyes, nodding. 

“Sorry, sorry, your mass was wonderful.” It was so hopeful, he’s used to mass being a situation where you count your blessings and then feel guilty for having them, always overshadowed by death or fear. This hadn’t been, the priest was a cheerful and chipper man. 

“Would you like to speak with me?” He asks. “I’ve not seen you here before.” Patton glances over his shoulder at Roman for a moment, who nods reassuringly. So Patton nods, following the priest through a door in the side. And Roman just sits down and waits. 

In that time, however, the two girls from earlier finish handing out the weekly newsletters and come walking down the aisle with a cardboard box of far too many. “Those poor trees,” says the girl who is not Alicia, dropping the box on the front bench. “Hey, ‘Lisha! Your friend is here.” Alicia comes barrelling down the aisle far too fast with her box. “I’d start covering that hair if I were you, otherwise you’re getting assaulted every week.” Every week? Right, mass _tends_ to be a weekly thing. “You have nice hair though, I wish I were a ginge, I’d love myself.” 

“You should love yourself anyway, you’re very…” he trails off as Alicia’s hand comes down on his head, he sighs, but he’s laughing slightly “...pretty.” 

“Stop flirting.” Alicia hums. “He’s clearly a taken man, Harper.” 

“I’m not flirting!” 

“I’m _definitely_ not,” Roman interjects. 

“Why are you sat here on your lonesome, where did your small friend go?” Roman points to the back room. “Oh, is he talking to Father Paul? He might be in there a while, that man could talk til the cows come home.” Alicia sits down beside him with a flop. “And we can’t leave until he comes and puts these boxes away, that’s _shit_ luck.” 

“Lisha!” 

“I’m sure God doesn’t mind, he made me to swear like a sailor.” Harper snorts, rolling her eyes, Roman feels a little less scared and alone with their company. “So, you’re both new, I’d remember that hair.” He’s starting to wonder if she has a slight redhead fetish, but then decides he doesn’t really mind if that is the case. 

“Yep,” he nods. “I haven’t been to church in years and even when I did come I’d never pay attention, I couldn’t tell you what half the things here mean, I don’t think I’ve ever even read the Bible.” Harper nods, sitting down on the floor and crossing her legs. “But it means a lot to Patton, my friend, so here I am, I guess.” 

“That’s fair,” Alisha comments gently, drawing her knees up to her chest and squeezing. “I didn’t use to believe in God either, it’s her fault.” She points to Harper with a grin. “I was raised secular, and then we met and I was still on the more agnostic side and now I’m handing out newsletters at Church.” 

“How come?” Roman is confused, he’d never considered an outcome where he, too, would believe in God. He’s not entirely convinced it could happen, he’s seen too much damage come from this religion. 

“I don’t know, you know, there was no moment, no vision, no voice from God, I just kept coming because she didn’t want to go alone, and then I just found myself participating, not just in Church but the basic things too, praying before eating, praying before bed, and then less formal things like praying when I was scared...it’s comforting like that.” She shrugs. “Life is a whole lot easier when, even when you feel alone, you know you’re not.” She opens her mouth to speak again, but the door opens, Patton comes bouncing out, a smile on his lips. The priest-Father Paul-beams at the three of them. 

“I see you’ve made some friends!” 

“Him, or us?” Alicia jumps up, heaving up her box dramatically and holding it out. “Did he talk your ear off? Are you never returning?” Father Paul laughs gently, accepting the box. 

“Not at all!” Patton is very much not used to banter with the clergy, but it’s very nice to witness. “I think I should probably come back next week, heaven knows I need something other than work to do.” Roman smiles warmly as Patton’s hand holds his own, squeezing gently. 

“Awh, they’re cute!” Alicia pokes Harper in the arm. “Why aren’t we like that?” 

“Don’t make me state the obvious.” 

They’re still bickering when Roman and Patton are leaving, they can hear them as they step outside. “Shall we walk back?” Patton asks. “It didn’t seem like a long drive.” 

“Sure, whatever you want.” Roman pulls up Google Maps, tapping in the uni address. “Shall we stop off for some breakfast along the way?” He gets an enthusiastic nod back as they head down the main road. Roman wants to ask what Patton had talked about, but he doesn’t want to pry, he understands that those sort of conversations are intended to be private. So he doesn’t ask. 

“Do you want to go back?” Patton asks after a few minutes of silence. “You don’t have to come with me.” 

“I know, I want too though.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Roman takes a deep breath, half of him regretting going in the first place, he’s too young for a religious crisis. He’s too young for a crisis permanently. The issue is, even if he believed in God, there is no way he could handle being apart of an institution. And although Patton looks happier, and Harper and Alicia had both seemed full of life, Roman can’t abide by rules or laws to any degree. Especially ones he doesn’t believe in. He doesn’t think he’d be happy in the religion, or any religion, not right now. But he didn’t _hate_ today, he’d found bits of it interesting, he didn’t feel uncomfortable. Patton would be uncomfortable and frightened if he went alone, so, for now, he’s fine attending, as long are there no expectations on him to change his thoughts and feelings for it. “I’m sure.” 

Patton squeezes his hand comfortingly, and they continue down the street. 

“I’m glad you feel like you want to go back, I know how important it is for you,” Roman utters gently, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand in his own. “I could tell that after...after we did what we did, you went a bit wobbly, which is fine! I was worried about you, and I thought maybe it would help, to see other people who are religious and queer.” Patton gives a small smile and nods. “Because I can only really help you in one way, I’m not really religious, and I don’t understand, but _they_ do.” 

“Thank you,” Patton beams, genuinely euphoric. “Actually, you know what, I’m not really hungry, can we just go home?” Roman raises an eyebrow, before nodding. “So how did you find out about that place?” 

“Virgil’s in the student union, he’s in their LGBT group, said he knew somebody who goes to that church and thought it would be good for you.” 

“I’ll have to thank him later,” his voice sounds a little absent and he’s walking a little faster, there’s a slight bounce to his step. Roman can see he’s fighting back a smile, and that has him unable to help one either. He’s happy to see Patton look so...free. He knows it’s not always going to be like this, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it whilst it is. 

They chat some more on the way back, but Patton falls silent once they get to their flat, half jogging up the stairs, his keys already in his hands as he pushes his way through to his own room, Roman’s hand in his own. “Is everything alright…?” He doesn’t get to finish that sentence, he steps into Patton’s room and finds his body pushed rather forcefully against the door, the other man’s lips claiming his own. He stumbles as Patton grips his jacket and tugs him towards the bed. “Pat, slow down,” he laughs softly as he hovers over his lover’s body, settling between his hips. “I should take you to church more often if this is what it does to you.” 

“Please don’t talk about church whilst I’m trying to seduce you,” Patton whines, bringing his hands up to his face. 

“What’s the difference?” Roman hums, dipping his head down to suck gently at the skin of the smaller man’s neck. Patton moans softly, his body jolting up against Roman’s. “It’s all worship at the end of the day.” His hand slides up the other man’s shirt, pressing to the heated flesh. “I’ll even get on my knees if you like?” The man beneath him makes a gentle noise between a whine and a moan, his cock twitching against him. Roman pulls back, Patton is staring up at him wide-eyed and a little out of it. “Are you okay?” A nod, he gives a small chuckle, leaning down to kiss Patton gently. “Do you want to slow down?” 

“I’m very hungry,” Patton says softly. “I underestimated the fact I would feel like I’m going to pass out.” 

“I’m hungry too,” Roman kneels up, by the way he’s looking at Patton, it’s not food he’s _starving_ from a lack of. “Shall I make us something to eat?” his eyes trail over Patton’s body, his shirt ruffled and halfway up his torso, his cock already half hard from just simple amounts of friction and adrenaline. The soft moan is echoing around his head. “Or are _you_ on the menu?” The blond takes a sharp breath in, his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths.

“Yes,” Patton replies weakly, the heat in Roman’s eyes swallowing him whole. “Wait, no, I…” Roman’s expression changes in a heartbeat, worry overcoming him. “I’m...I don’t know?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but Roman seems to understand, shifting to sit next to him. 

“It’s okay, you’re allowed to change your mind.” 

“But I...I was excited about it a minute ago?” 

“Yeah, that can happen, it’s alright, it’s normal, shall we have something to eat?” Patton nods slowly, looking still very confused, a little bit annoyed. “Here, why don’t you chose a movie, and I’ll go and make us a nice breakfast?” He leans over and presses a soft kiss to the side of Patton’s head. “It’s okay to not always know what you want Pat, happens to all of us.” He squeezes the other man’s hand in his own, and Patton relaxes, nodding. Once he knows the other man is okay, he heads into the kitchen to make breakfast.

Roman mulls over everything as he makes breakfast alone. He doesn't have any answers to his own questions, he hadn't really expected them either. This isn't _for_ him, it's for Patton. But now he's wondering if he can find a place like that; where do recovering addicts even go? He couldn't sit through Alcoholics Anonymous if he tried and he's not religious enough to find sanctuary anywhere like _that_. It's hard enough even admitting that he had problems, he _has_ problems. Patton's sweet but this isn't something he can help with, he can listen to Roman's problems and that's nice and good and he loves that, but the same way he took Patton to church so he could be with people who really understand him, he needs that too. 

Fuck knows Remus isn't going to help him, again, as much as he loves his brother, it's like asking a canister of gasoline how to put out a fire. Emile has been helpful thus far, maybe he'll have some ideas of somewhere for him to be. Especially now that he and Patton are reaching that stage of the relationship where they always want to be with each other, it's a good idea to start finding things to do separately. Someone in Patton's situation is incredibly susceptible to codependency, and Roman cannot for the life of him handle _another_ relationship like that. He's hoping these weekly newsletters will give Patton some ideas for groups and shit he can do. 

He feels selfish for thinking he doesn't want to be going to church with his own boyfriend for the rest of his life. It's not a commitment he wants to make forever. Only until Patton feels comfortable enough to go alone. _'At the end of the day,'_ he thinks decisively, _'it's not my religion and I don't want it to be'_. 

He returns to Patton with breakfast and a smile on his lips, resuming their usual routine of food and a movie as they cuddle up to each other. Afterwards, their plates stacked on the desk, Patton turns to Roman with a smile and squeezes his hand. "Thank you for today," his eyes shine with joy, and Roman feels the guilt melt away. "I know it isn't your thing, and I understand if you don't want to keep going, even if you're okay to go, for now, I'm not...I'm not _expecting_ you to become Christian, basically, I know you have a strained relationship with God and I don't think forcing a connection will change that, it's okay if you never want to be Christian, or if you do but when you're fifty, or if you change your mind every other week, as long as I just get to _be_ with you I just...I just want you to be _happy_." Roman smiles warmly, of course, Patton would understand, he's been here long enough to know Roman wouldn't just change his mind on something like this overnight. 

"Thank you," he utters sincerely, leaning to kiss the top of his head. Patton squeezes his hand again and rests his head on his chest. The movie plays in the background for an intelligible amount of time, both actually engrossed in it. When it comes to a close, Roman stretches his arms and legs out in a vertical line and Patton leans up, his eyes rolling over the other man's body like he's consuming a piece of art. 

"Hey remember that thing you did where you just...touched me, a lot?" Patton asks absently, Roman hums. "Could I...do that to you, now? If that's okay." Roman blinks a few times, a slight flush running over his cheeks. He nods, sitting up, he glances down at his clothes. 

"Should I take my jeans off?" Patton nods, shuffling to sit up against the headboard. Roman stands, his hands shake just a little bit, and he can feel Patton's eyes on him as he slides his belt strap through the buckle and unfastens his jeans, sliding them down his thighs and then onto the floor. He takes off his socks too for good measure, feeling strange stood in a shirt and boxers. Patton admires him, there's not really another word for the look in his eyes right now, studying Roman's strong thighs with interest, then to the slight bulge in his boxers. "Do you want me in your lap, or lying down or...?" Patton taps his thighs and Roman obeys, straddling his boyfriend's lap. Patton looks up at him with a small smile, then cranes his neck like a flower looking for sunlight. Roman feels the anxiety melt as he leans down to kiss his lover gently, no rush, no heat, just a slow and soft kiss. 

Patton's hands fall to the bare skin of his outer thighs and rest there, his fingertips twitching against the warm skin but not moving at first. Their lips drag against each other and Roman can feel Patton breathe, the rise and fall of his stomach against his own body, which wraps around his lover with more ease than expected. Patton's thumb begins to draw gentle movements, the minute friction blossoming heat on Roman's skin in a way that ripples in an imperfect circle in the surrounding area of Patton's hand. Their kiss does not cease, they breathe between each joining of their lips, and he plays a guessing game on how much resilience either of them has now. 

The smaller man moves his hands upward, his touch unsure and careful as they ghost Roman's hips and pull upwards under his shirt, feeling the lean muscle of his torso with the amount of delicacy someone might treat an antique relic. Roman does not usually feel so fragile. One hand comes back down to Roman's hip, where he squeezes so gently that Roman would barely feel it if suddenly his entire central nervous system didn't feel like someone had dropped a lit match into it, and now he feels like he's made out of gasoline. He's so warm, hot even, his cheeks flush as Patton's thumb presses against the conjuncture of his inner hip and his abdomen then rolls in a small circle. The other man's hips jolt by reflex and his eyes, lidded, threaten to fall closed. Patton is not perturbed by this, in fact, he seems to relax. His other hand travels inward, nails brushing over Roman's nipple, watching with rapt attention as his dark eyes close and lips part in a sudden inhale, leaning back a little. 

"Are you okay?" Patton asks. Roman does not have a coherent answer, the sensuality of the touches would mean so little to him if it were anyone else. 

"I'm good," his voice is rough and hoarse, throat suddenly very dry, he can feel Patton's hands on him like a rock sinking into the ocean, he's falling under the surface of the water, by _God_ does he want to drown. Their lips meet again just as slowly as previously but the heat is stifling and unbearable, he can feel sweat prick at his skin which only elevates when Patton's hand-the one that was on his hip-drifts down, contouring the line from Roman's hip to his inner thigh. The back of his hand brushes his cock and Roman's thighs tense. He feels the smaller man's smile, no, _grin_ like he's awfully pleased with how easy his partner is to arouse.

Patton pinches Roman's nipple gently, swallowing the almost-silent moan it brings him. He pulls back from the kiss a little, his eyes scanning Roman's face. He's flushed, lips damp with saliva and looking awfully red, his pupils wide and eyelids heavy, it's the prettiest thing Patton has ever seen. A gnawing pit of lust opens up in Patton's stomach as he takes in the mess he's made with so little. One wouldn't think a small hammer could take down a brick wall, and yet that's essentially what he's done. He slides his hands around to Roman's back, his palms dragging the other closer, watching him straighten under the touch, hands falling to Patton's shoulders as he arches wonderfully into the gentle caresses. The other man leans forward and presses a kiss to the space between his ribs through his shirt, but even that seemed to make Roman shiver. So he drags him a little closer, lets his hips press to his body and feels that he's almost aching in the process. 

His hands trail over the curve of Roman's ass and he asks again: "Are you okay?" all Roman makes is a soft whine, a plea of desperation. His hands grip Patton's shirt so tightly that his knuckles turn white, the man looking up at him doesn't recognise the absence in his eyes or the fact that Roman can barely think at all so very suddenly. He moves his hands to the juncture of his upper thighs to his ass and massages his fingers against the area and the _sound_ Roman makes has his whole body deprived of air. He's never been possessive, certainly not an instinctual person, but that noise has a wild look in Patton's eyes.

But he moves his hands off of Roman, leaning back, the taller man sits back on his thighs, shivering and hard and looking nothing less than dazed. He can't fathom the mess that Roman is with so little, can't understand how he could do that to a person. "You look out of it," he says softly, keeping his hands to himself. "I can't tell if you're okay or not." Roman nods, he's fine, he's utterly fine he just needs to be touched. "Can you...tell me that you're fine?" Patton tries again. Roman blinks, once then twice, he parts his lips to speak and then closes them again, his shoulders sag. "Ro, what's wrong?" 

"I...I don't know how to explain," he whispers, even his voice sounds distant. "I'm okay, though." Patton nods, patting the space beside him, Roman clambers off of him, pulling his shirt off, there's a very light sheen of sweat tinting his skin. "Sorry I..." he clears his throat, taking a deep breath in. "I just slipped a little there, your hands are very... _nice?"_ Patton laughs shortly, giving a comforting smile, Roman smiles too and the tension seems to evaporate. The negative tension that is, he's still aching and frustrated and would very much like Patton's touch. "I guess it felt a bit like meditating." 

"Is that good?" 

"Very, I think I might need to go to the bathroom though," he glances down at himself, his thighs squeezing together. Patton's cheeks flush and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he eyes the noticeable bulge in Roman's boxers, the only piece of clothing he has remaining. "If...you don't mind, that is?" Patton's eyes trail back up to his face. 

"Oh! Uh...no, you go ahead, I...I don't...sorry." Roman smiles and leans over to kiss his forehead. "I feel like I'm kinda giving you mixed signals here."

"The only signal I have is that you're still exploring your own boundaries, and that is entirely fine by me." He slides up off the bed. "Feel free to choose another movie whilst you wait." He gives a small grin and then opens the bathroom door. Patton chooses another movie, but he can't help the curiosity as he slides off the bed and wanders a little closer to the bathroom. He strains his ears just enough for his eyes to flutter closed at the gentle moan of his own name. And although it doesn't really do much more than give him a quick flare of arousal before he's returning to bed, he does feel awfully pleased with himself. 


End file.
